Flowers for a Friend
by 3rdgal
Summary: When an old friend and fellow agent dies in the field, Don becomes determined to catch the man responsible. But how much will it cost him?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.

**A/N:** Thanks as always to ritt, the world's best beta and sounding board!

_So much blood. There's so much – too much._

"Hang in there, Jackson," Don told the injured agent lying in front of him. He tightened his grip on the gaping wound in the man's throat, silently cursing as his hands – slippery and red – slid from the wound. He quickly moved them back and tried to ignore the amount of blood that had escaped in the few seconds the injury had been left open. "Hang in there for me."

The man beneath his hands gave a slight gurgling sound as he tried to speak. Tears started leaking down the injured agent's cheeks – from pain or fear or strain, Don didn't know and didn't care. All he could think of was how this was all his fault – how this man shouldn't be here, dying from such a brutal injury. More gurgling, fainter yet more intense. Amazingly Jackson had managed to grab onto Don's arm, his grip surprisingly strong and insistent.

"Hang on," Don commanded. "Help is on the way so you damn well better hang on." Don looked up at the swirling chaos behind him, trying to pick out a member of his team. Giving up on that particular goal, he shouted to no one in particular, "Where the hell are the medics? I've got a man down!"

"We've called them," an agent – Don couldn't remember his name – replied. "I'll see what's taking them so long."

Don turned his attention back to the man who was quickly bleeding to death right in front of his eyes and tried to offer up a reassuring smile. "Hear that? They're on the way. Keep breathing for me – in and out, nice and slow, okay?"

The hand on his arm convulsively tightened as Jackson let out the most painful sounding attempt at a cough that Don had ever heard. He wanted so badly to offer comfort but he dared not move his hands from the deep gash that had practically severed the other man's head. He gurgled again and Don's heart sank as he saw a thick, red trickle of blood coming from Jackson's mouth.

"Shh, don't try to talk. Just keep breathing and we'll get you help soon." Jackson's bleary eyes found his and he locked gazes with Don, trying to convey his thoughts. "No, Bobby, don't think like that." The senior agent knew exactly what the younger man was trying to tell him, but he couldn't let him give up.

"…ra," Jackson uttered, using every last bit of strength he had to voice the one syllable.

"Bobby," Don breathed in despair as it began to sink in that his colleague – no, his _friend_ – wasn't going to make it. He slid his mask into place as he reluctantly nodded. "I'll tell her and the kids you thought of them. I promise, Bobby."

A weight seemed to lift from Jackson's tortured body as his eyes rolled up into his head and he released one last stuttering breath. Don checked for a pulse, bowing his head as he found none. He knew CPR would do no good for someone who had lost that much blood but he was still willing to try. Before he could get started, the medics were there, pulling him away and shooting questions at him. He answered them succinctly and in monotone until they stopped coming, the medics announcing that Jackson was gone.

_Like I didn't know that already,_ Don thought bitterly. He wearily pushed himself to stand and numbly walked toward his SUV, intent on seeking shelter from the horrors he'd just lived through. Vaguely he heard Megan's voice calling to him but he didn't want to stop – he had to get out of there. "Office," he said abruptly as he climbed into his vehicle. A little voice in the back of his head told him he was violating some sort of policy by leaving the scene without giving a statement, so Don quickly told the voice what it could do with itself. He cranked the engine to life and sped away, oblivious to his teammate's shocked and concerned expression.

--

"Don looked pretty shaken up back there," Colby observed as he, Megan and David rode in the government issued SUV. They had stuck around for about thirty minutes after Don's sudden departure, taking statements and delegating authority before leaving the scene in the hands of the Evidence Recovery Team and heading back to their office.

"Well, that _was_ his old friend from Albuquerque, Granger," Megan pointed out. "You can't really blame him."

"Of course not," he sighed. "It's just that I've never seen Don look like _that_ and we've seen some pretty disturbing things in the field."

"The guy practically bled to death in his arms," David spoke with a shake of his head. "Hell, I think we'd all be shell shocked."

"Guys," Megan interrupted. "I think we should be very careful about what we say when we get back to the office. I don't want to do anything that might… make this harder on Don. Agreed?"

"You're the shrink," Granger shrugged. "I'll follow your lead."

"I'm not a shrink," she said in exasperation. "But thanks for the vote of confidence."

Before too much longer they had deposited the SUV in the parking garage and were walking into the bullpen. None of them was surprised to see Don at his desk, an open report in front of him but his eyes staring into space.

"Don?" Megan asked as she gingerly perched on his desk.

"I know," he said flatly. "You need my take on what happened."

"Right," she nodded as she took out her notebook. "I can write it out for you."

"Whatever." Don closed his eyes, folded his arms on the desk, and wearily lowered his head to rest on top. "Not much to tell. We screwed up today – that's about it."

"Don-"

"Don't argue with me," he snapped. "We had a plan of attack that we executed and we lost a damn fine agent in the process. _And_ Gardenia got away." He raised his head and gave her a cold stare. "So don't you even begin to tell me we did the best we could or any of that crap because it's not true and I don't want to hear it." Craning his head around, he gave David and Colby the same warning glare. "That goes for you two, too. Got it?"

"Sure thing," Colby said as he and David nodded.

The senior agent looked back to Megan and rubbed a hand through his hair. "Jackson took the left flank just like we had outlined. I was coming up the center and, as far as I could tell, we had all eight suspects in our line of sight. Must have been someone new to the party, though, because next thing I know, Gardenia's got Jackson in a choke hold with a gun to his head."

"He showed up at the same time the other attacker crashed the party?" Megan inquired.

"Right after that. Since the original eight were already running for cover, I knew the rest of you would have to scramble, too. That left me, Gardenia and Jackson alone up on that hill. I started to make a run at them but Gardenia said he'd shoot him if I didn't stop. So I held him under my gun and tried to talk him into surrendering but he refused to listen, like he had some ace in the hole. That's when the eleventh guy showed up behind him in that off-road pickup."

"Eleven?" Colby asked in shock. "Boy, when our intel's wrong it sure is wrong."

"No kidding," Don sighed. "Gardenia gave me this look and I knew exactly what he was going to do but I couldn't stop him. He backed up to the passenger side of the vehicle, dragging Jackson with him, and right before he got in he tossed the gun, grabbed a knife – although I have no idea from where – and… slashed his throat. Tossed him to the ground like a damn pile of garbage and then the truck sped off. I took a couple of shots but I was too focused on getting to Jackson to be efficient." Don suddenly flipped the file on his desk shut and stood up, grabbing his jacket. "You know the rest."

"Right," Megan said as she nervously watched her boss slip into his coat. "You're leaving?"

"Someone has to tell his wife and kids that he's…" He slipped the coat on and grabbed his keys. "I'll be back in a while."

"Want someone to go with you?" David asked, "Notifications can be-"

"I know how they can be," Don cut him off. "It's not my first and it won't be my last, I'm sure." As Megan opened her mouth to speak, he threw up his hands and scowled. "I said I can do this on my own. Here's a radical thought – why don't you three work on how to catch the SOB that did this?" With that, Don stormed to the elevators, leaving his team in stunned silence.

--

Don took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he sat in typical Los Angeles bumper-to-bumper traffic. He just wanted to get this over with and the longer he sat in traffic, the more anxious he became. Although he and Barbara Jackson had never really been close, she was Bobby's wife and Don had met her a few times back in New Mexico. Of course back then the Jacksons hadn't had any children yet – that had come in Don's absence. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought back to the previous night…

"_Three kids?" Don asked as he ordered a beer for himself and Bobby. "In the five or so years I've been gone? Not wasting any time, are you?"_

"_I always said I wanted a big family," Jackson had grinned. "Makes up for being an only child growing up."_

_Don accepted the beer the bartender handed him and raised it to his companion. "Congratulations, my friend – you've succeeded."_

"_Thanks," the younger agent smiled as he clinked his beer bottle against Don's. "So, I'm going to like it out here, right? No more desert heat and boredom?"_

"_Los Angeles is a whole different ball game," the older agent promised. "You'll love it – never a dull moment. Not to mention lots more activities for you and your family, including a ton of beaches."_

"_Yeah, Barbara is thrilled about the move. 'I can't believe we're going to be living in LA!' She sounded like a five year old on Christmas morning."_

"_I bet," Don chuckled. "Have you gotten settled in your new house?"_

_Bobby nodded as he took a swallow of beer. "Took a quick trip out here a couple of weekends ago to sign the closing paperwork. The movers brought our stuff earlier this week so now we just have to unpack."_

"_I guess that week of leave you took got burned up in the actual trip out here," Don said._

"_Oh boy, did it. You ever ride with three kids in a car? Even a five-minute ride seems like an hour. Try putting up with that all the way from Albuquerque. It's no fun, my friend."_

"_I can only imagine." Pointing at the younger man's half-empty bottle, he asked, "Want another one?"_

"_Sure," Bobby beamed. "After that I have to get home though. Barbara won't be too happy if I stay out with a buddy all night before my first day at work. Say, who'd you say my team leader is?"_

"_Jason Kedrick," Don said as he flagged down the bartender. "Good man. Pretty by-the-book so forget about half the stuff I taught you."_

"_Only half?" Jackson teased. "I may need to be completely re-trained."_

"_Hey, watch it," the older agent laughed. "I do still have some say over what happens to you."_

"_I wish I could report directly to you like in New Mexico. You're a great boss, Don."_

"_Maybe you don't need that second beer if you're getting this mushy with one."_

"_Shut up, old man," Bobby said as he gave Don a playful shove. "Seriously though, thanks for the recommendation. I know how hard it is to get on at the LA office without something to make you stand out. It means a lot to me that you put in a good word."_

"_No problem," Don assured him. "You're a great agent and I'm looking forward to seeing you do some great things with this office."_

A car horn jostled Don from his thoughts and he looked up to see that he was the only one on the freeway that was still sitting in place. He gave a quick apologetic wave to the car behind him and started forward.

_Sorry, Bobby. If only I'd known how wrong I was._

--

"What's the damage?" Hector Gardenia asked his second in command, Alfonso Delsorio, as he stared out of the huge window in his safe house.

"Everyone escaped the FBI's little party crashing escapade just fine," the other man answered as he leaned on his boss's desk. "We lost the weapons we planted for the setup, of course."

"Yes," the crime boss growled. "I was looking forward to watching the Feds get caught in our little trap. Do I need to tell you how disappointed I am?"

"No," Delsorio shook his head. "They were smarter than we gave them credit for. That won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. Anything else I should know about?"

"I've got some men keeping an eye on Randall Sergio. He's our newest member and he seemed really shaken up by what happened today."

"Oh?"

"I'm not sure if it was almost getting caught, or…"

"Spit it out, Alfonso."

"I think he may be freaked out about that agent."

"You have discussed the FBI being the thorn in our side with him?" Gardenia inquired, his gaze never moving from the vista before him.

"Yes."

"And why we value their lives so little?"

"Of course," Delsorio replied. "But he doesn't seem to really get it."

"Then he is a liability," Gardenia said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And we don't want liabilities walking the street."

"I'll have the men take care of him."

"Good." Gardenia swiveled in his comfortable desk chair and leaned across his desk toward his second. "Now, there is one other matter I would like you to handle for me."

"Of course."

"That agent who held a gun on me," Gardenia's face contorted into a scowl. "He is going to be trouble. He doesn't know what fear and respect are. _He dared to hold a gun on me_. After I took care of his little friend, I saw a hatred in his eyes so intense that I know he's not going to give up until I'm captured."

"Not going to happen," Delsorio vowed. "Not on my watch."

"Calm down, my friend. I trust your ability to protect me just fine, but I think this agent could disrupt our business if his investigation is anywhere near as extensive as I feel it is going to be. So, I want you to research him for me – personally and professionally. See what his weaknesses are and how we can best exploit them."

"Consider it done," the other man nodded with a malicious grin. "I'll start with his personal life. Nothing says 'back off' like paying a little visit to a man's family."

--

Don sat in the driveway of the modest one story home, eyeing the children's toys scattered across the front lawn. He had no doubt this was going to be the hardest notification he'd ever done in his life and wondered for a moment if he should have taken David up on his offer. _No, I brought them out here,_ he thought sadly. _I know them. I'm the one who needs to tell them._

He wearily climbed out of the SUV and glued a neutral expression on his face. As he approached the house, Don noticed there was a spot on the roof where some shingles had fallen off. _Bobby was probably going to fix those soon._ He swallowed deeply as it occurred to him that Barbara was now a widow and, if he remembered correctly, both her and Bobby's families were in the Midwest. _She's all alone with three kids to raise._ Don had to really struggle to maintain his composure as that thought sunk in, but he knew he'd have to be the strong one for the next few minutes.

As he reached the front door, the agent raised his hand and gave two firm raps against the brightly painted wood.

"Coming!" a woman's voice called out. He could just make out the sound of a child's laughter before the door swung open. "Agent Eppes? What are you…?" He saw the look of shock and despair cross her face as she realized why he would be there, during the early afternoon, without her husband in tow. "Oh God."

"Barbara," Don said calmly. "Can we sit down somewhere?"

"No," she protested angrily. "No, you tell me where he is. Tell me he's okay. Right this minute, you tell me my husband's okay."

"I really think we should sit down," Don stated again. "Please, Barbara."

"He's in the hospital?" she asked in a pleading tone. "There was an accident, but he's in the hospital and he'll be just fine." When the agent remained silent, she shook her head as tears leaked from her eyes. "Tell me he'll be fine!"

"Barbara," he said again, struggling to keep his voice even. He reached a hand toward her, wincing when she slapped it away and fixed him with a glare. "He's not okay."

"He's not… He can't be…" she trailed off as Don slowly nodded. "I am _not_ a widow with three kids."

"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"You've done enough already," Barbara spat, her voice full of venom. "You brought him out here, remember? So he could die on his _first day of work_. You did this!"

"What?" Don asked, caught off guard by her sudden accusation.

"He told me that you recommended him for this office. He went on and on about how he could never have gotten on here if it wasn't for you and your 'good word'. We'd still be in Albuquerque and my kids would still have a father if it wasn't for you!"

Don opened his mouth but he couldn't think of any response to her words. _Of course she's right,_ Don reminded himself. _He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me._ Images began swirling unbidden in his head – Gardenia appearing and grabbing Bobby right in front of him, holding a gun on Gardenia but not able to stop him from slicing Jackson's throat, bending over the younger agent's prone form as he let him bleed to death at the scene. _No…_

"Are you deaf?" Barbara demanded and Don realized she had been yelling at him. "I said get out of here! I never want to see you again!" She slammed the door in his face and soon he could hear frantic sobbing coming through the door.

Don numbly walked back to his SUV and climbed inside and, with shaking fingers, dialed Megan's number.

"Don," she answered on the first ring. "How'd it go?"

"Not well at all," he admitted. "She doesn't want me here but I don't think she should be alone."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Thanks," he sighed.

"Don?"

"Yeah?"

"How are _you_ doing?"

"Fine," he responded automatically as he disconnected the phone. He sat in the quiet interior of his vehicle, alone with his dark thoughts, while he waited for Megan to arrive.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"What have you got?"

Colby looked up at the sound of his boss's voice as Don stormed into the bullpen. "Not much," he frowned. "That gun shipment wasn't nearly as large as the ATF had suspected."

"And their intel said eight men, not eleven," Don growled. "Nice to know they're on top of their game."

"We did confiscate the weapons they had, mostly automatic with the serial numbers filed off."

"Ready to sell on the street," David said in disgust.

"No drugs this time and no large sums of money," Colby read from his report. "Which is odd because they usually receive shipments covering all three aspects of their operation."

"Drugs, guns and laundered money," Don recited from memory. "Why do we think this was different?"

"No idea," Colby shrugged. "I hate to state the obvious, but…"

"A potentially large shipment scheduled, then scaled back and extra men show up for a smaller delivery," Don thought aloud. "Sure sounds like they had a heads up."

"And this was ATF, DEA and FBI need to know only." Colby nervously twirled a swizzle stick around his fingers as he waited for Don's reaction.

"Let's not make any snap decisions," the senior agent told his team. "But let's also safeguard future mission details – cut back on the people in the know until just before the mission."

"I'll give the other two department leads a heads up on that," David said as he headed for his desk.

"So, what now?" Colby asked. "It took us weeks to get this raid organized and the only thing we succeeded in doing was to scare them off and confiscate a meager amount of weapons. I don't see them making a move again so soon, with or without any inside help, do you?"

"No," Don agreed. "Gardenia's too smart for that. My guess is that he's retreated to one of his safe houses until things cool down." He wearily sank into his chair and half-heartedly pushed at the pile of reports on his desk. "You know we were incredibly lucky that he was at this delivery considering he normally sits on high and lets his crew do all the work. And now…"

"He's sitting somewhere laughing at how bad we looked?" Colby offered.

"Right," the other agent sighed. "I really want to nail this guy, too. Not only is he heading up the newest, most dangerous gang in town, but now he's killed one of our own." Don looked up at Colby, his eye blazing with fury. "He has to pay for that."

"Hey," David interrupted as he joined the two men. "I contacted both departments and they agree one hundred percent with us. I told them we were heading up future endeavors since a federal agent's been killed and that's our jurisdiction."

"Didn't take that too well I bet," Colby muttered.

"No, but I emphasized that they were the ones who headed up this last mission and they got really quiet. I don't think we'll have any problems out of them."

"Good," Don said as he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. "So, what do you say we take the fight to Gardenia now?"

"How so?" David asked.

"Instead of waiting for another shipment that we can bungle, why don't we go on the offensive? Focus all of our efforts on finding Gardenia's safe house and dismantling his crew?"

Colby and David cast a nervous glance at each other before turning to their boss. "That could get really hairy if we're not very careful in our approach," David advised him. "We don't want to start an all out war with him."

"Of course we'll be careful," Don snapped. "But I don't want to sit back and wait until we lose another agent, or worse, any civilians to this SOB. I don't want that on my conscience."

"We're with you, man," Colby nodded firmly. "Whatever you decide, we've got your back."

"Thanks," their boss replied in a surprisingly soft voice. "Go home and grab some sleep. Be here bright and early tomorrow morning, ready for a lot of hard work."

--

Don killed the engine of his SUV as soon as he pulled into his brother's driveway. He peered at the darkened house and glanced at his watch – two in the morning. He quietly slipped out of his vehicle, letting himself in the front door with his own key.

Don made sure he kept his steps light across the hardwood floors as he made his way to the kitchen, not wanting to wake his father or brother at such a late hour. Partly out of consideration, but mainly because he didn't want to be subjected to a third degree as to why he was coming in so late and why he looked so bad, which he was sure he did. Skipping past the bottles of beer – _have to be in too early for that_ – he grabbed a bottle of water and checked the carefully wrapped leftovers from supper. His stomach quickly reminded him that he had no appetite so he shut the door and stealthily crossed the house to settle on the family couch.

His tension started to ease just because of the comfort and familiarity of his surroundings. Whether it was the inviting softness of the cushions, the welcoming scent of the potpourri Charlie kept throughout the house, or the knowledge that his loved ones were merely a flight of stairs away, Don didn't know. He just knew that no matter how bad things got, he could almost always count on a stay at Charlie's house to revitalize his spirit. _That and it's a much shorter drive to and from work, _hethought dryly.

Don automatically reached for the remote but quickly stopped himself as he remembered he didn't want to wake his family up. Instead he opted for a bit of reading, grabbing his father's newspaper from his chair. The sports page was open on top and the agent couldn't help but chuckle as he saw the football scores circled and marked with pluses and minuses. _Guess he's still keeping his bookie in business._

Tossing the sports page aside, Don quickly found the front page and skimmed the headlines. The bold, black ink spoke of stories of gang activities and murders, suspected law enforcement corruption and high profile white-collar crimes. Unfortunately most of them were already familiar to Don – and not from a media angle. _What a world,_ he sighed inwardly. _Sometimes I think my life is a joke – like I really stand a chance of stopping all of the madness out there._

Angrily tossing the paper back into his father's chair, Don downed the entire bottle of water in one motion and stretched out on the comfortable couch. He sleepily set his watch alarm for six, plenty of time for him to freshen up and be at the office by seven. That one last act completed, Don closed his eyes and waited for the horrible memories of the day's events to manifest themselves in a restless night of unpleasant dreams.

--

Alan's eyes shot open and he found himself staring at the bright red numbers on his alarm clock. _Three-thirty in the morning?_ he wondered to himself. _I wonder what woke me up?_ He lay quietly in the darkness, carefully listening for any unusual sounds in the stillness of the house. He heard none but something in his gut was gnawing at him to get up and check things out.

He sighed in resignation and climbed from the warm, soft bedcovers, slipping on his robe and creeping into the hallway. His instincts were telling him that there was no danger to be concerned about, but that _something_ needed his attention. Alan paused by Charlie's room, pushing open the door wide enough to see that the young man was sleeping soundly in his usual sprawled manner. Pulling the door shut, Alan stopped by Don's room and peeked inside to find the bed unoccupied.

_Must be something downstairs,_ he thought as he let out a yawn. He softly padded down the stairs, scanning the room below as he did and immediately spotting his oldest son lying on the couch. Alan quietly approached his side, frowning at the creases lining the younger man's exhausted features. _Oh, Donny,_ he thought compassionately. _What's happened, son?_

Knowing the question would remain unanswered even if Don was awake, Alan decided it would be best to let him sleep. He fetched an old blanket from the linen closet and carefully spread it over his sleeping son. When Don didn't stir, his father became bold enough to lightly tuck it around him before gently pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Deciding he would keep watch over his oldest until morning came, Alan moved to his chair and was surprised to see his paper haphazardly crumpled on the seat. _Donny must have read it, _he thought as he glanced back at the other man._ Must have seen something that upset him, too._ Alan quickly discarded the troublesome paper, only remembering to save the sports page at the last second. He settled into his chair, intent on being there when Don woke up. _Maybe I can fix him some breakfast,_ the older man thought. _That might be just the thing he needs._

Settling back into his comfortable chair, Alan began doing a mental inventory of the contents of his kitchen and tried to decide what kind of meal he could prepare his oldest son. A light smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he realized he had everything needed to make Don's favorite – and Charlie's least favorite – breakfast. _Sorry, Charlie, but pancakes it is._

Confident that his attempts to cheer Don up would be successful, Alan found himself relaxing as he studied Don's sleeping form. He intended to keep an eye on him all night in case he grew restless or disturbed, but first he just needed to rest his eyes for just a few minutes…

"Dad!"

His eyes shot open and he immediately winced at the bright morning light that streamed through the living room window. "Donny?" he replied.

"Um," a voice at his side chuckled. "Last I checked, no."

Alan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and craned his very stiff neck to find Charlie standing beside him. "Charlie?"

"Yes, I'm your other son," he teased. "You know – the one who's your landlord?"

Alan gave him a brief glare and turned to the couch, dismayed to find it empty, the blanket neatly folded and resting on one end. "He's gone," he whispered dejectedly.

"Dad," Charlie spoke again with a hint of worry in his voice. "Are you okay?"

Alan shook his head as he rose from his chair, his joints popping in protest. "It's not me I'm worried about," he mumbled.

"What?"

Realizing that he was confusing and – perhaps needlessly – worrying his youngest, Alan smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nothing," he assured him.

"Why were you sleeping down here?" Charlie inquired, not buying his father's answer.

"You know how it is," the older man shrugged. "You can't sleep so you come downstairs for some late night television. Next thing you know, you're waking up with a sore… well, everything."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Charlie repeated as he grabbed his backpack from the front table. "I can stay home if you need me."

"I'm fine, Charlie. In fact, I was thinking of making pancakes for breakfast."

"Oh," the younger man said as his face crinkled in disgust. "Well then, I'll see you tonight." With a quick wave and smile, the young professor bolted out of the front door.

_Pancakes,_ Alan laughed to himself. _The kryptonite of Professor Charles Eppes._ Growing solemn once again, he locked the front door and headed upstairs to get dressed and then give Don a call.

--

Don arrived at the office at seven on the dot, only mildly surprised to see that his team had beaten him there.

"Morning, Don," Megan said in a perky voice.

"I forgot you're a morning person," Don grumbled as he headed for his desk.

"Only with a little help from the caffeine gods," she reminded him. "You want a cup?"

"Hell, yes," he sighed as he studied the mound of reports on his desk. "What have we got?"

"Those are the reports from the last three raids we've done on Gardenia's operation," David told him. "It was like pulling teeth but the ATF and DEA reports are in there, too."

"You're the man," Don whistled as he imagined how David might have 'convinced' the other agencies to play nice. "What have you got?"

"Colby's looking over the murders and assaults that can be linked to his gang. Megan's trying to create a profile on Gardenia to get an idea of what he might be looking for in a safe house."

"Didn't we bust one of his earlier this year?" Don asked.

"Got it right here," David said as he waved a file at his boss. "There was also another one in Mexico that was discovered last year. I figured I might as well look into it, too."

"Good idea," Don said as he thumbed through the first report.

"How long do you think he'll stay off the radar?" Colby asked.

"His ego's too big to stay hidden for very long," Don muttered angrily. "So we've probably got a very small window to work with before he's out there causing chaos and endangering lives again."

"What if we have Charlie analyze his crime pattern?" David suggested. "He could look at dates, times, locations and try to figure out what we should keep an eye out for."

"That's not all he can help with," Megan stated as she returned and handed Don a cup of hot, black bliss. Grinning as he chugged it down, she fetched the reports from her desk. "Remember the child predator case?"

"The woman killing all those perverts?" David asked. "I don't think I'll ever forget that one."

"Remember how Charlie took the commonalities of the houses to determine where the next murder might take place?" At their nods she tapped the folder in her hand. "Why not do it with these safe houses as well?"

"But we only have two to work with," Don pointed out. "Won't it be kind of hard to determine which commonalities are significant and which are coincidence?"

"First of all," she wagged a finger at him. "I _should _tell Charlie you used the word 'coincidence'. Second – yes it might be difficult with only two locations, but that's where I come in."

"The profiler's list of Gardenia's must haves?" Colby asked with a wide smile.

"Give Granger a gold star," she said as she pointed at him.

"Not bad," Don nodded. "That just might work. Why don't you run it over to CalSci and see if Charlie can get started on it?"

She hesitated for just a second before grabbing the files and saying, "Be back after a while."

Once she was out of earshot, Colby nodded at Don and gave him a puzzled look. "Couldn't you have run the files over?"

"Huh?" Don asked as he continued flipping through the reports.

"Larry's barely been gone a week," he pointed out. "A visit to CalSci might be difficult for her."

"She's a professional," Don shrugged, though he was mentally kicking himself for his lapse in judgment. "She'll be fine. Besides, who better to elaborate on her behavioral profile if Charlie needs her to?"

"Right," Colby agreed as he turned back to his desk.

"Don," David said in a low voice as he leaned against his boss's desk. "Are you okay?"

"Why does everyone feel obligated to ask me that?" he snapped quietly.

"Because you lost what seemed to be a very good friend out there yesterday. I know that notification was difficult."

"Oh yeah? Megan ran her mouth about it?"

"Of course not," David sighed. "But you had to tell a woman that her husband and children's father wasn't coming home. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that wasn't easy." He braved placing a hand on the senior agent's shoulder and lowered his voice even further. "And that comment you just made about Megan running her mouth – that's not you, man. Seriously, if you need to talk…"

"I don't," Don firmly stated. Seeing the doubt that lingered in the other man's eyes, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Jackson's death was pretty hard on me and I didn't sleep so well last night. Other than being tired and a little stressed – which is normal – I'm fine. Please don't bring this up again, okay?"

Before David could respond, Don's cell shrilled. Unclipping it from his belt and checking the caller ID, he groaned and debated whether to answer. _If I don't talk to him now he'll just keep worrying._ "Look, I have to take this call," he told David. "Keep up the good work and let me know if you find anything." Don left his desk and found an empty conference room, closing and locking the door behind him. "Eppes."

"Good morning, Donny," his father greeted.

"Good morning, Dad. What's up?"

"Can't a father just phone his son to say hello?"

"You could, but you don't," Don retorted. "I'm in the middle of a big case so I haven't got very long."

"Is that why you were over here last night?"

_Here it comes._ "Yeah, I didn't have time to run back to my place. Did I disturb you?"

"Of course not," his father sighed in frustration. "I was just wondering why you didn't sleep in your bed. That couch has got to be-"

"The most comfortable thing in the world," Don cut him off. He made himself lighten his tone to try to put his father's mind at ease. "A lot more comfortable than that chair you were sleeping in."

"Why didn't you wake me when you left?"

"Because that would have been thoughtless and rude?" Don asked with a note of sarcasm in his voice. In truth, he'd been horrified that his father had found him and that he had felt the need to sit by his side through the night. Don had quietly folded the blanket, made a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up and sneaked out the door without waking his father, all because he had wanted to avoid any kind of interrogation by the older man. _So much for that idea._

"Well, for your information, I was going to make you a pancake breakfast."

A flutter of guilt stirred in the younger man's gut and he found himself doing what he often did when it came to his father. "I'm really sorry, Dad. I didn't know you wanted to do that. I honestly thought it was more polite of me to let you sleep."

"You're forgiven, of course, but only on one condition."

"Which is?" the agent asked as he checked his watch. _Hurry up, Dad. I've got a million things to do._

"You take a break from that case tonight and come over for dinner."

"Dad-"

"Hey, you've got to eat anyway and you owe me for this morning," his father insisted.

"Fine, but it may be a little late."

"Come at eleven for all I care," Alan spoke with tenderness in his voice. "I just want to see you."

"Sure, Dad," Don agreed, his heart warmed by the love he felt in his father's words. "I'll be over later tonight."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Don noticed Colby eagerly waving at him from outside the conference room. "I gotta run, Dad. Later." He flipped the phone shut and unlocked the door. "What's up?"

"LAPD just called," he said, breathless and excited. "They found one of Gardenia's men."

"Is he talking?"

"He's barely alive," Colby said. "Someone called to report hearing gunshots and LAPD found him when they responded. They've rushed him to the hospital but they don't think he'll make it."

"Nothing like staring death in the face to convince you to bare your soul," Don remarked. "Let's go."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"Megan!" Charlie greeted with obvious delight as the agent entered his office. "How are you?"

"Hanging in there," she smiled. "Sleeping by the telescope Larry got me before he left."

"I know the feeling," the professor quietly agreed. "I miss him."

"Me too," she said as she gently enveloped him in a hug. "But I'm happy for him."

"So am I." Pulling out of her embrace, he gestured at the files in her hand. "What kind of FBI fun did you bring me today?"

"We need some help tracking down a gang leader. Hector Gardenia – wanted for all sorts of organized crime."

"Very bad man," he commented as he thumbed through the first file.

"Very. He killed an agent last night."

"Oh no," Charlie breathed. "Anyone I know?"

"No, he just transferred from the Albuquerque office. Actually, yesterday was his first day on the job out here."

"Albuquerque? Did Don know him well?"

_Oh boy,_ Megan thought to herself. _How much should I tell him? Don will kill me if I reveal too much of his personal life._ Deciding to leave out the brutal details but wanting to give Charlie some sort of heads up, she nodded. "He used to report to Don out there. In fact, your brother gave him a personal recommendation on his transfer application."

"How's he taking it?"

"You should talk to him about that," she advised.

With a knowing wink and smile, he said, "And we never had this conversation?"

"They don't call you a genius for nothing," she replied with a grin.

--

"Special Agents Eppes and Granger," Don introduced as he flashed his badge at the police officer in the ER. "We got a call about Randall Sergio."

"He's in there," the uniformed man gestured to a bed in an observation room. "With the hospital priest."

"Thanks," Don said as he and Colby entered the small room. Nodding at the man of the cloth he greeted, "Father."

"Father Christopher," the tall, blond man smiled. "I'm glad you arrived so quickly. Randall would like to speak with you." He leaned over the bed and gently placed a hand on the dying man's shoulder. "The FBI is here, my son."

Other than a light hitch in his shallow breathing, Don would have had no idea that the man in the bed was still alive. He stepped forward and looked down at Sergio, immediately marveling that the man was still alive. There was an obvious entrance wound in the man's head and Don could only imagine where the bullet might be lodged. "Randall Sergio?" he asked. "I'm Special Agent Eppes with the FBI."

"…Sorry… 'bout… agent." The three words left Sergio panting for breath and he squeezed the priest's hand against the pain.

"Can you tell me who shot you?"

"Gardenia… men. Three."

"Do you know their names?"

"Not… 'portant. Gard… ia… orders."

"Do you know where he's staying?"

"Secret," Sergio wheezed. "Only… few… know."

"Do you know if he's planning anything?"

At this, Sergio nodded ignoring the blinding pain in his head. "After… one."

"One what?" Don asked.

"Stop… one." He took a minute as he desperately panted for oxygen. "Scare."

"I know you are, my son," the priest soothed. "But you've asked for forgiveness and we've prayed for your sins. Remember, God loves all of his children, despite their flaws."

"No," Sergio moved his head and moaned as a wave of agony washed over him. "Family."

The priest rubbed his shoulder. "I know. But you'll have a new family waiting for you when God accepts you into Heaven."

Sergio clenched his fists, whether in fear or frustration Don didn't know, but what happened next was no surprise. Sergio drew one last shallow breath and a chorus of alarms sounded in the room. Doctors and nurses pushed into the room, shoving the two agents and priest to the side. Don watched as they worked, fascinated by the skill and assuredness with which they moved. In seconds it was all over and the alarms were silenced.

"He's gone," a nurse notified Don. "If you'd like to see the admitting nurse she can give you some papers to sign so you can collect his effects."

"Thanks," Don said with a smile.

As he and Colby left the room, the younger man said, "Not the most useful deathbed confession I've ever heard."

"No," Don agreed. "Let's hope his belongings can tell us more than he did."

--

"Well?" Gardenia asked as he studied his second across his desk.

"Sergio is no longer a problem," Delsorio informed his boss.

"Excellent," he replied with a delighted smile. "And that other little problem we discussed?"

"I'm still fine tuning the details. Don Eppes is the epitome of an FBI agent – hard working and dedicated to the job. His team seems to be quite loyal to him and he to them, so going after him directly will only put a larger number of determined agents on our case."

"True," the crime boss nodded. "What about his personal life?"

"The man has some issues. No wife and no girlfriend at the moment and nothing even close to a serious relationship for at least the past year."

"Married to the job?"

"Apparently," Delsorio sneered. "He does have family in LA – a brother and a father. We're still trying to ascertain exactly how close they are but it's looking good."

"Tell me about them."

"Father was a city engineer back in the day and now he co-owns an architectural consulting business. Brother's some math whiz kid who teaches at CalSci. I have unconfirmed rumors that he consults for the NSA and other governmental agencies."

"Such as the FBI?"

"I believe so, yes," Delsorio nodded. "I'm waiting for final confirmation on that."

"Older or younger brother?"

"The professor is the younger brother."

"So our little agent friend might be very protective of him," Gardenia thought aloud.

"Exactly. But if he _does_ consult for any big time agencies, I'd just as soon not upset them and get another group of Feds on our tail."

"You are wise, my friend," Hector smiled. "So tell me, what do you suggest?"

"Let me hear back from my men in the field. I have some ideas but I want to work a few things out."

"Surely you can give me at least a hint?"

"Well," Delsorio grinned evilly. "Let's just say flowers are always a nice touch."

--

"Hey," David greeted Megan as she returned to the office. "Charlie have anything yet?"

"He said it would take at least a couple of days to set up variables and… all that Charlie stuff." She sank into her chair and nodded at her coworkers. "How did you guys do today?"

"One of Gardenia's men turned up," Colby told her.

"That's good."

"Not really," Colby said. "He didn't tell us much and unless we hold a séance… he's not going to."

"We can't seem to catch a break," she sighed.

"We did get his personal effects and sent them to the lab," Colby informed her. "Hopefully they'll come up with something useful."

"Hopefully. Hey, where's Don?"

"He's talking to Human Resources," David told her. "I think he's trying to fast-track some sort of financial assistance for Jackson's widow."

"He's really taking this hard," Colby observed.

"The widow Jackson didn't help matters any, believe me." Megan glanced at the clock and sighed. "Why do I feel like we wasted almost an entire day?"

"I know," David agreed. "I hate the 'sit and wait' part of this job."

"So, who's going to tell Don he needs to go home and get some rest?" Megan inquired.

"I would but I left my vest in my locker."

"You're a laugh a minute, Granger," she groaned. "Seriously, he looks terrible."

The three grew quiet as the object of their worry appeared at his desk, grabbing his coat and giving them a quick wave. "Call it a night," he told them. "Be back tomorrow morning, bright and early."

The three agents watched in disbelief as their boss left the bullpen, Megan finally finding her voice. "Did Don just _willingly_ leave at a normal hour?

"It sure looked like Don," Colby remarked.

"You know, I hate to admit it," Megan said as she chewed on a fingernail. "But I think that scares me more than if he'd stayed until after midnight again."

--

Don sat in the dark interior of his SUV, looking up at his brother's house as he mulled over the events of the day. As frustrating as it was to put in an entire day's work and have almost nothing to go on, it was far worse to think about other things. Like how he'd helped a wonderful agent move out to LA just to be killed. Like madmen with guns and a callous disregard for human life – including law enforcement officers. Like exactly how fast a man's blood can pour from a gash across his throat.

"Don!"

His name and a loud rap on his window startled him from the very thoughts he'd been trying to avoid. He glanced to his left and saw his younger brother giving him a concerned look. "Hey, Buddy," he greeted as he opened the door of his vehicle.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," Don lied. "I was just thinking about this case."

"The one Megan brought me the info about?"

"Yeah, that's the one. How's that coming?"

"I've almost got all of the variables figured into my calculations and Amita's helping me sort through the data, so we should have some results in a day or two."

"That's great," Don said but his voice lacked any enthusiasm.

Placing a hand on Don's arm, Charlie locked gazes with him. "I know an agent was killed."

"Yeah," Don replied flatly as he shook off his brother's arm and headed to the front door.

"You knew him well?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You just seem so…" Charlie trailed off, not wanting to use the word upset. "Different."

The agent barked a bitter laugh. "Life is full of changes, Buddy."

"Don-"

"I'm okay," the older man cut him off. "I'm just tired and hungry and I thought some time with my family _with no shop talk_ would be nice. Can we please have that?"

"Of course," the professor nodded. "Dad's prepared a feast, you know."

"I'm certainly hoping so."

"Did you know that he was going to make _pancakes_ this morning?"

"You don't say," Don chuckled. Draping an arm around his little brother's shoulders, the agent gestured up the walkway. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

As the two brothers walked together into the house, smiling and making small talk, neither noticed the two men parked up the street in a stolen sedan. Nor did they notice when the car slowly drove away, the passenger reporting his observations to his boss.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Alan sat at the dinner table, carefully eyeing his son and not liking what he saw at all. "Donny," he said as he gestured at his oldest son's plate. "You _do_ know that is steak on your plate, right?"

"I know," the agent nodded. "And it's delicious."

"Which would obviously explain why you haven't even taken two bites of it."

With a weary sigh, Don shrugged apologetically. "I guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought."

Alan carefully studied his oldest son, taking in the dark shadows under his eyes, the paleness of his complexion and lines of stress that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his forehead. He'd been delighted when Don had come to the table and heaped a large helping of everything onto his plate, making him think his son had gotten past whatever had bothered him so much the day before. But now all of that food had simply been pushed around and lumped into one very unappetizing heap. "You need to eat," Alan told him. "I know how you get on cases like this, but you have to take care of yourself."

"'Know how I get'?" Don demanded. "And how exactly 'do I get'?"

"Focused," Alan stated patiently. "Driven to solve the crime and save as many innocent lives as you can. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, son, but you can't neglect yourself." He braced for Don's imminent retort about being a smothering worrywart, but to his amazement that wasn't what happened.

"You're right, Dad. I'll finish the steak." Wrinkling his nose at the other contents of his plate, he said, "But I'm not eating the rest of that."

"Fair enough," his father nodded.

"Of course, if you didn't play with your food…" Charlie teased in an attempt to lighten his brother's mood.

"How'd you like some mashed potatoes in your hair?" Don growled.

"About as much as you'd like my pie in your face."

"Boys," Alan scolded with a grin. "Can't we have dinner like three, normal adults?" Rolling his eyes at the answering laughter, Alan was more than happy to watch as Don wolfed down the rest of his steak. Once they had finished he told his sons to relax while he took care of the dishes.

"Thanks," Don told him. "I think I'm going to crash here tonight – if that's okay with you guys."

"Always," his younger brother promised. "I'm going to head out to the garage and work on those files Megan gave me."

"Mind if I tag along?" Don asked.

"Not at all. In fact, I'd love the company."

--

Don sat on the worn, green sofa their mother had refused to throw out as he watched his brother scribble numbers and symbols all over the chalkboard in front of him. Although his eyes were on Charlie, his thoughts were in a very different place.

"_All teams check in," Don said into his radio. He listened to each agent radio their position and glanced to his left, smiling as he saw Jackson crouched in a clump of bushes further up the hillside. When Bobby radioed in he also gave a subtle wave to his former boss, which Don answered with a quick nod. "All teams hold until my go. We want the weapons in their hands before we move in."_

_He peered through his monocular and watched as the men under surveillance aimlessly milled around, not a single one making a move toward the old barn. **What are they up to?** Don wondered to himself. **Surely they're not going to let it sit there all day.** He continued observing the eight men below, his unease growing as they continued to do nothing._

"_Agent Fitzsimmons," Don radioed to the ATF lead. "Verify this is the correct drop point."_

"_Roger that," the man replied. "No idea what the hold up is. Want to move or wait?"_

"_We need those weapons in their hands or this whole mission is for nothing," Don reminded him. "Continue to hold until my go."_

_He popped a piece of gum in his mouth and continued his observation of the gang members below him. He was about to consider changing his mind about waiting when a voice radioed, "Unknown suspect coming in fast."_

"_Say again?" Don demanded. _

"_Coming down from the right flank," the agent clarified. "Coming in with weapon drawn."_

_There was a gunshot and Don's radio started squawking like crazy. "Agent Down!" "Unknown assailant is moving toward objective!" "All agents move in!"_

_Don frowned as he sensed the mission crumbling before him. He was about to join in the action when movement to his right caught his eye. He swiveled his head and was horrified to see a man dragging Jackson to his feet in a chokehold. As Don drew his weapon and advanced toward his friend, he realized it was Hector Gardenia himself who was holding a gun to Jackson's head._

"_Drop it!" Don roared as he sprinted, gun drawn, at the two men._

"_Stop right there or I kill him!" Gardenia yelled back._

_Don slowed his pace but kept moving toward the two as non-threateningly as he could. "We've got agents all over the place, Gardenia. Think about your situation."_

"_Oh, I am," he replied. "And I think you're on the losing end."_

"_Oh yeah?" Don asked in an authoritative voice. "How do you figure that?" His heart stopped as a pickup appeared over the hill, pulling up next to Gardenia._

"_That's how I figure it," the other man spat. He dragged Jackson with him as he backed up to the passenger door. "Time to say goodbye." In a lightning quick move, Gardenia had tossed the gun in the truck and drawn a hunting knife. He drew it across Jackson's throat and shoved him away as he threw himself into the passenger seat._

_Don froze – only for a second – as Jackson slumped bonelessly to the ground. It was a second too long as the pickup started to disappear down the other side of the hill. Don sprinted toward his friend, firing off a handful of inaccurate shots in the direction of the fleeing pickup. When he got there all he could see was…_

"Don!"

The agent jumped as his brother's voice broke into his memories. He realized he had broken out in a sweat and quickly wiped at the dampness on his face.

"Don," Charlie repeated as he sat beside his brother on the old couch. "Look at me, bro."

"Sorry, Buddy. I guess I zoned out for a minute."

"Try two hours and you weren't 'zoned out', you were dead asleep."

"I was?" Don asked in surprise.

"Yeah, you were. You fell asleep a while ago so I figured you needed the rest. I wasn't going to wake you, but then you started getting restless and breathing heavily. I figured maybe you were having some bad dreams."

_Bad memories is more like it. _"I guess I was." Seeing that Charlie had managed to fill three chalkboards in the two-hour period, Don immediately put on a contrite expression. "I didn't mean to fall asleep while you were working."

"No worries, Don. Like I said, I figured you must really be tired. How about we call it a night and go upstairs to our rooms?"

"Sounds great," Don agreed as he stood and stretched.

"Hey, Don." Charlie's voice had grown so quiet that the older man almost didn't hear him.

"Yeah?"

"You know I'm here for you if you need to talk about _anything_, right?"

_Good grief, Eppes, when did you become an open book?_ "I know, Charlie."

"Oh," the professor whispered. "Okay then."

"I'm fine," Don assured him. "Just a little tired."

Don followed his younger brother into the house and up the stairs, inwardly groaning at the worried glances Charlie kept throwing over his shoulder. Once they reached the second floor landing, Don patted the professor on the shoulder and bid him goodnight. He made sure Charlie had disappeared into his room before moving to his own and closing the door, locking it to ensure privacy. As he sat on the bed, Don set the alarm clock but only as a precaution because he knew he wouldn't be going to sleep. He wasn't going to risk having another batch of nightmares that might wake up and worry his family.

_No,_ he told himself. _I'll just sit here and think about how easily I've ruined so many lives._

--

"What did you find out?" Gardenia inquired of Alfonso over breakfast.

"He is very close to his family," the other man reported with a smile. "He went to their house last night for dinner and wound up sleeping there. He and his brother spent some time talking in the driveway beforehand, and it seemed like they were enjoying each other's company."

"So you think the brother is the key?"

"Yes," Delsorio said as he gestured to a piece of toast.

His boss nodded and handed him the jar of jelly. "What about this consulting he may do? That's not going to complicate our lives, is it?"

"He does consult for the NSA and the FBI but I have a plan to make it quite obvious that he is not the reason behind the attack."

"So we won't be bringing any more Feds to the party."

"Not at all. In fact, if my plan works as it should, we'll be taking one very determined Fed off the case."

"Well then," Hector said as he poured them both a cup of coffee. He handed one to Delsorio and held his own cup up in a toast. "Here's to your plan."

--

Don was the first member of his team to arrive at the office and was thrilled to see the forensics report on Sergio's effects. As he skimmed the report he found one particular item of interest. He booted up his computer and pulled up a search engine and quickly typed his finding into the box. Just as he was submitting his search, the other three agents on his team arrived together.

"I think we may have a solid lead," Don said excitedly.

"About time," Colby muttered.

"You said LAPD found Sergio's body, right?"

"Right," Colby said.

"Then I would presume he was found in their jurisdiction?"

"An alley near Wilshire," the other agent replied.

"Look at the fifth entry about the trace evidence found on his body," Don told him as he handed Colby the file.

"The ME found traces of vegetation identified as Tecate Cypress on the victim's body," he read aloud. "That's a good lead?"

"Check it out," Don told the others as he pointed at his computer screen. "Tecate Cypress only occurs in two regions of California – a reserve in Irvine and in San Diego County."

"You think this is where Gardenia's safehouse is?" David asked.

When Don nodded, Colby held up a hand and shook his head. "But Sergio said it was a secret location only known to a few. I got the impression he wasn't in that category."

"Locard's Principle," Don informed him. "Two things coming into contact are each going to leave traces of themselves on the other."

"So you think this vegetation came from his killer?" Megan inquired.

"I do. Think about it," Don told his team. "If Gardenia trusts someone enough to commit murder for him, then he's bound to trust that person to the location of his hideout."

Megan nodded as a he smile lit up her face. "I'll call Charlie and let him know he can narrow down his search."

Don's cell rang and he glanced down at the ID. "How about I tell him?" he chuckled as he flipped open his phone. "Charlie, we were just about to call you."

"Flowers, Don?"

"What?" the agent asked in bewilderment.

"You sent me flowers?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well then someone did and signed your name to it."

"What?" Don asked as he tried to figure out what was going on. "Where'd you get them?"

"I came back to my office after my class and found a nice pot of pretty, white flowers sitting on my desk with a note that says, 'From Don'."

"White flowers?" Don repeated as he wracked his brain. His stomach suddenly twisted in fear as a bad feeling came over him. "What kind of flowers are they?"

"I don't know," Charlie replied in exasperation. "_White_ ones."

"Charlie," Don snapped. "Look for a label and tell me what they are!"

"All right already," the professor sighed. "Give me a second."

Don held his breath as he heard Charlie walk around his office. "Today, Charlie," he urged.

"Wait, here's a label on the pot."

Don waited as Charlie presumably read the label. _Faster, faster…_

"It says they're gardenias."

"Get out of there now!" Don yelled into the phone.

"What are-"

"Now, Charlie! Get out of there now!"

Don heard a sudden intake of breath and his brother's muttered curse.

"Charlie?" Don demanded, wanting to know what had alarmed his brother.

His only answer was a loud explosion just before the phone went dead.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Don broke every speed limit in the city as he maneuvered his SUV through the streets of Los Angeles, lights and sirens blazing. He was solely focused on the road ahead while Megan tried, unsuccessfully, to get CalSci campus security on the phone and David tried to find out if LAPD already had anyone on the scene. Colby rode shotgun and checked the side streets for approaching vehicles every time they went through an intersection.

By the time they reached CalSci neither Megan nor David had been successful in their attempts to gather information, which caused a panicked Don to race into his brother's building. A campus security guard was foolhardy enough to try and stop him so the agent sent the kid flat on his back before rushing past him. _Sorry, kid. I'm sure someone on my team will fill you in._

As he rounded the corner and started down the hallway where his brother's office was located, Don nearly collapsed with relief. There, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall, was his brother, alive and well and being treated by a paramedic.

"Charlie!" Don called as he quickly crossed the distance between them. "Are you okay?"

"Don," the professor sighed shakily. "Am I glad to see you."

Don took in his brother's appearance and noticed he had several deep scratches along his forearms and left cheek. "You're hurt," he observed aloud.

"It's not bad," he promised his brother. "Superficial, mostly. I need stitches for this one, but that's it." He gestured to a cut right below his left eye that was currently being held together with butterfly bandages.

"Oh my God, Charlie," Don sighed as he sank to his knees beside his brother. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Yeah, well misery loves company; I was terrified." Looking deep into his big brother's eyes, Charlie swallowed and said, "Gardenias from Gardenia?"

"That's what I'm thinking. God, Charlie. You could have been killed."

"Actually, I don't think the bomb was meant to be fatal," the professor told him. "If you look in my office you'll see that there's very little damage. Most of this was shrapnel designed to injure and possibly do some permanent damage to m-" He stopped as his face lost its color and quickly looked away from his brother. "To someone."

Don placed a hand on the younger man's shoulders and began a gentle massage. "It's over now, Buddy. I'm here and I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I know you won't," Charlie said as he gave Don a weak smile.

"Why don't you sit here for a minute and let me see what I can find out, okay?"

"He needs stitches," the medic spoke up.

"I'll take him to the doctor when we're done," Don told the man. "But he's not going anywhere without me."

At Charlie's nod and the medic's shrug, Don stood and found his team had already begun gathering information from the LAPD Bomb Squad Unit. He quietly beckoned Megan to his side and kept his voice low as he told her, "I'm sticking with Charlie until we get done with all of this and I can get him home. But I want an agent on the house now to keep an eye on my father."

"Already done," she assured him. At his look of intense gratitude she reminded, "They're like family to us, too."

"If we weren't in the middle of a crime scene I just might hug you."

She smiled and nodded her head toward the hallway. "Go ahead and take care of him. We can handle this."

Looking out of the door at his brother, Don could see a faint tremor starting to course through his body as the adrenaline began wearing off. "I'm going to take you up on that," he told her. "Call me if you need anything."

"We will."

Satisfied in the knowledge that Megan was looking out for him and his family, Don knelt by Charlie's side and gave him a confident smile. "Time to go, Buddy."

Charlie reached out and grabbed onto his brother's arm with both hands, managing to climb to his feet thanks to a lot of help on Don's part. "Dad?" he asked as he kept his death grip on Don's arm.

"We'll tell him after we get you patched up and back home. I don't think he'll freak out as bad if he can see that you're alive and relatively okay when we break the news to him." 

"No," the professor shook his head. "Is he… I mean… what if…"

"I've got someone watching the house, Buddy," Don soothed. "Nothing's going to happen to either one of you."

"Good," he breathed as he eased his grip a bit.

Don smiled as he marveled at how easily he could make Charlie feel safe and secure, whether it was from imaginary monsters when they were growing up or real life monsters they both tried to catch as adults. _Of course if Gardenia is behind this, it's because of me. He's trying to scare one or both of us off the case and he's willing to play dirty if he has to._ The smile faded from his face as guilt replaced the moment of pride he'd been feeling.

"Don?"

"Sorry, Buddy," he said as he realized he'd spaced out again. Carefully draping an arm over the younger man's shoulders, Don held him tightly as he guided him out of the building. "Let's get you patched up so we can go home."

--

Charlie watched from his seat on the hospital exam table as Don hovered in the corner. The professor kept giving his brother his best smile in the hopes that he might lift the dark cloud that seemed to hang over his head. He was no fool; he knew Don blamed himself for what happened and that he would continue to do so no matter what logical argument the professor countered with. So he figured his best move was to convince the agent that this really hadn't been a serious incident – despite the fact that Charlie had only been shaken this badly once before in his life.

"Okay, Mister Eppes," the nurse said as she handed him a sheet of home care instructions. "Don't get the stitches wet and immediately call us if you have any pain, foul odor or discoloration around the injury. Other than that, come back in a week from now to have them removed."

"Thanks," Charlie smiled at her as he slid off the exam table and joined his brother. He craned his face upward to give Don a better look at the left side of his face. "See? Good as new."

"Thank God," the agent responded. "Let's get out of here."

The professor followed his brother through the maze of hallways, noticing how Don was constantly checking in front of and behind them, as well as side to side every time they crossed an open area. The younger man tried to chalk it up to some sort of stress-related paranoia but he knew Don didn't react like that to stress. _Which means he still thinks I'm in danger,_ he thought nervously.

The ride in his brother's SUV was no less tense as Don kept a constant eye on the rear and side view mirrors. Charlie found himself doing the same thing, looking for any anomalies that might indicate they were being followed. He didn't notice anything but he also knew he didn't have his brother's honed skills or incredible instincts. After an eternity, they finally pulled into the driveway of his Craftsman home and Charlie was thrilled to see a police car conspicuously parked out front. He unconsciously let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, which didn't go unnoticed by his brother.

"I told you I had someone watching Dad."

"I know," the professor nodded. "It's even better to actually see it in person."

Don smiled and patted his shoulder before the two headed up the walkway. Just as they reached the door, Charlie nervously asked, "How mad do you think he's going to be?"

"At you? Not at all. Just don't be surprised when he smothers you with love. With me? Well, only time will tell, I suppose."

Don opened the door and let Charlie step inside first, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as their father barreled into his youngest son.

"Charlie!" the older man yelled as he wrapped his arms around the injured man. "They didn't tell me you'd been hurt!"

"It's fine, Dad," Charlie said, his voice muffled from where he pressed against his father's chest.

Pulling back and turning his son's head so he could see the stitches, Alan asked, "Fine? This is your definition of fine?"

"He really is okay, Dad," Don spoke from the doorway. "We ran by the hospital and had him checked out."

"And you?" Alan asked as he released his youngest son. "Are you okay, Donny?"

"Yeah, I wasn't there when it happened."

"And _what_ exactly is it that happened? The thugs you have playing bodyguard wouldn't tell me."

"Someone sent a small explosive device to Charlie's office," Don said as evenly as he could, as both he and Charlie waited for their father's reaction.

"A _bomb_? Someone sent your brother a bomb?"

"Bomb is a little extreme," the agent said. "It was very small scale. More of a message than an attempt to really destroy anything."

"A message from whom?" the oldest Eppes demanded.

"We're still working on that," Don responded.

"Does this have something to do with a case you have him working on?"

"We don't know yet."

"You don't _know_?" Alan glowered at both of his sons and wagged his finger between them. "Well until you _do_ know I don't want your brother working on any more cases for you."

"Dad!" Charlie protested. "Now wait just a-"

"Agreed," Don nodded.

"Don! Dad!" Charlie moved to stand between the two men and let his frustration show. "I _am_ a grown man which means I can make my own decisions."

"Not when it comes to you working on my cases," Don shot back. "If I say no then that's all she wrote."

"But you need my help!" the professor argued.

"Not badly enough that I'll put you in harm's way," the agent said with finality. Glancing at his watch, he shook his head and looked imploringly at his family. "I have to get back to the office now. I've got a car out front and one in the alley out back. In a little while I'm going to have an agent stopping by to stay in the house with you overnight. Tomorrow, once we've evaluated the scene, I'll have a better idea of what we're going to do long term."

"Long term?" Alan asked with a shocked look on his face.

"That's a distinct possibility," Don told him with a rueful look. "But I won't know for sure until tomorrow." Eyeing his still upset younger brother, Don lowered his voice and begged, "Please just do as I say for tonight, okay? Stay inside and let these men do their jobs. I promise I'll be over by lunch tomorrow with an update. Please, Charlie."

"Fine," the younger man replied, unable to resist the urgency in his brother's voice. "Just go catch the guy, huh?"

"I will, Charlie. That's a promise."

Charlie watched as his big brother stormed through the door with a sense of purpose and determination filling his being. Don had made him a promise and he knew his brother would never break it, no matter what the cost to himself. _And that,_ Charlie frowned as he chewed on a fingernail,_ is the reason I'm still afraid._

--

"Talk to me," Don told his team by way of greeting as he entered the bullpen.

"Believe it or not the sticker on the flowerpot was still intact and legible," Colby reported. "It came from Carmine's Flowers right in the heart of downtown."

"What did Miss Carmine have to say?" Don asked as he shed his jacket and sat in his chair.

"That gardenias are one of her top sellers," he sighed. "She's sold over a thousand orders in the past week, and a third of those were cash transactions."

"Does she get names and addresses for each purchase?"

"Only if the customer pays by credit card or if a cash client requests delivery," Colby informed him. "And, as you probably guessed, she didn't have any gardenias scheduled for delivery to CalSci."

"Did Charlie see who brought them?" Megan asked hopefully.

"No," Don told her. "He said they were waiting for him on his desk after class. Did we check all the delivery services in the area?"

"David's on that right now," Megan nodded. "But so far he's come up empty."

"Look," Colby said. "We all know that it's no coincidence that Charlie gets explosive gardenias while we're working on the Gardenia case. I even ran a check on crimes that have been linked to his operation and he has used a similar MO to disfigure a former mistress."

"Ouch," Megan winced. "Although that does tell us something."

"What?" Don inquired.

"Disfiguring your mistress is a pretty personal thing to do," she pointed out. "And he chose to do something that would make it very obvious it was from him."

Don gave her a doubtful look. "So what? This thing with Charlie is personal? He doesn't even know Charlie and I doubt he had any idea Charlie was working on this case. I mean we didn't even bring it to this attention until yesterday."

"Personal, yes," Megan insisted. "But not for Charlie – for you."

"Me?" Don blinked in surprise.

"You held him at gunpoint, something no one else has come even close to doing and, in his eyes, you were the reason he had to get his hands dirty by killing a man."

"You seem to be forgetting," Don stated bitterly. "That we lost an agent, he lost no one and he got away. And you think he wants revenge on me? That's a stretch."

"Not necessarily revenge," she clarified. "You're a very strong person and a force to be reckoned with in the field. I think Gardenia knows that killing an agent in front of you was not a wise thing to do. And I think he suspects that you'll take the fight to him now." Looking back and forth between her coworkers she gave a shrug. "That _is_ what we're doing, isn't it?"

"So this is a personal message to me for me to back off?" Don shook his head. "But he's gotta know that even if I'm not after him, another agent from any number of agencies still will be."

"But like I said," Megan told him. "You're a force to be reckoned with and he knows that. Frankly, Don, I think he's terrified of you. Which explains why he didn't go after you head on; he knows you don't scare easily. He's counting on your loyalty to your family to be the weak spot he can exploit."

"So as long as he's out there and we're investigating him…"

"Then your family is still at risk," she finished for her boss.

"Family," Don whispered. His mind flashed back to their visit with Sergio. "Oh my God, he was trying to warn us."

"Who?" Megan inquired.

"Sergio," the senior agent said as he grabbed his head in his hands. "How stupid can I be?"

"After one," Colby thought aloud as he too remembered the conversation. "He was telling us that Gardenia was trying to scare someone by going after their family."

"What?" Megan asked in confusion.

"He was muttering all sorts of nonsense," Colby told her. "He said they were 'after one' and then he said 'scare'."

"But we thought he was scared of dying," Don growled.

"That's why he said no – he was telling the priest he was wrong. Then he said 'family'."

"And we thought he was saying he had no family." Don sat up and slammed a hand on his desk. "He was trying to warn us! If we'd have used our brains then Charlie never would have been hurt."

"Easy, Don," Megan soothed. "Colby just said the conversation wasn't making much sense."

"I don't want to hear it, Reeves," Don snapped. "The bottom line is that he tried to warn us and we were too slow to understand." Don stood up and grabbed his jacket as he stormed from the bullpen.

"Where are you going?" Megan called.

"To make sure he doesn't have another shot at my family."

--

"Tell me good news," Gardenia ordered his second in command.

"It went as planned. The explosive detonated without killing the professor. I was hoping for more significant damage, but he was hurt and I believe it's going to have the desired effect on big brother."

"Are you certain?" his boss insisted. "I don't want to have given this agent even more of a reason to go after us."

"The gardenias got the message across, I'm sure. He's either a fool or hates his family if he continues to hunt us down."

"If you say so, Alfonso." Gardenia looked out his window and surveyed the deserted countryside, complete with his own private patch of forest. "I don't want to lose another safehouse to these people."

"You won't," Delsorio assured him. "In fact, I'll follow up on this myself. Make sure he really did get the message."

"And if he hasn't?"

"Then this time daddy will get a taste of our hospitality."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

"What?" Alan Eppes exclaimed. "You're kicking us out of the house?"

"I'm asking you to go away for a few days," Don clarified.

"But this is our home," Charlie protested. "We have lives here, Don. I can't just up and leave my classes."

"And I can't leave Stan alone to handle all of our clients."

"Were you two not listening to me?" Don asked angrily. "What part of 'imminent danger' wasn't clear enough for you?" Glaring at his younger brother, Don gestured at his cheek. "What part of flying shrapnel seemed harmless to you?"

"What's wrong with keeping an agent on the house?" Charlie asked.

"Because I don't have the manpower to do that for very long," the agent sighed. "And I don't have enough men to follow you wherever you choose to go when you leave the house."

"So because you have a case that's gotten out of hand, we have to stop our lives and hide in a hole somewhere?" his father demanded.

"Look, I'm sorry any of this had to happen," Don told them. "I'm sorry about everything that's happened in the past few days. I'm sorry I wasn't a good enough agent to stop any of this, but I'm doing the best that I can right now. If I know you're safe then I can focus on catching this guy instead of worrying about you two."

"Not a good enough agent?" Alan repeated. "Donny, I never meant-"

"Forget it," his oldest son cut him off. "Just please do this one thing for me." He met his father's gaze and allowed his desperation to manifest itself in his expression. "_Please._"

"All right," his father nodded. "If it's that important to you, we'll go." Giving his youngest son a pointed look, he asked, "Right, Charlie?"

"Sure," the professor sighed.

"Thank you," Don told them as he felt a small amount of tension leave his body.

"So do we need to go to a relative's house or what?"

"It can't be someone we visit that often," the agent informed them. "I'm afraid that might be too easy to track down. And I think it should be someone far away from here. Gardenia's crew is a pretty new organization and they don't really have any influence outside of LA."

"How about your Uncle Ernesto?" Alan asked. "He still lives in Philadelphia."

"That's perfect. He's not going to mind you coming for a visit, is he?"

"I don't think so," Alan laughed. "He's always asking _when_ I'm coming for a visit."

"Perfect," Don nodded.

"How long do we need to stay?" Charlie asked.

"Until we catch them or the heat dies down a bit. Hopefully no more than a week or two."

"Okay," Charlie sighed unhappily. "But I'm going to need a couple of hours to get my stuff together."

"Not a problem, Buddy. We can spend the night here and tomorrow I'll drop you at the airport."

The professor bleakly nodded and disappeared upstairs to start packing. Don opened his cell and was about to call to book their flight when he realized his father had moved to stand very close to him.

"Donny."

"Yeah?"

"You are the best agent in the entire FBI," his father whispered confidently. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I thought otherwise."

"Well, otherwise is a popular opinion lately," Don muttered as he kept his eyes glued on his phone.

"Whoever thinks that is an idiot."

"Careful, Dad," the agent warned. "You never know who you might be insulting."

"Look at me," his father commanded. When his son didn't obey, Alan reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Something's been bugging you lately, Donny. You can try to deny it all day long, but it's obvious to me."

"It's not important."

"_You_ are important," Alan said with conviction. "To me and your brother and your team and every life you've ever saved. Don't you ever forget that."

"Right," Don whispered.

"I know you don't want to talk about it because you never do, but remember that I will always be here for you when you need me. And please, whatever this is that's bothering you, don't let it interfere with your work. I almost lost one son today and I couldn't bear it if had to go through that again."

"I'll be careful, Dad." Don lifted his eyes to his father's, his spirit buoyed by the confidence he saw in the other man's face. "And I _will_ catch the people that hurt Charlie."

"I know you will." Before his son could sense what was coming and duck away, Alan had enveloped him in a fierce hug.

Much to Don's surprise, he didn't find himself pulling away. Instead he wrapped his arms around his father and returned the gesture, trying not to think about how hard it was going to be to make it through the next several days without his family around to keep him grounded.

--

"You really shouldn't be out here."

Charlie looked up from his laptop at the sound of his brother's voice and raised an eyebrow in question.

"When I said spend the night here, I really meant inside the house. The garage is kind of separated from any protection."

"But now my big brother is here so it's okay," Charlie replied, only half jokingly.

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Working on your case."

"Charlie, why? Did you forget what happened today?"

"I won't ever forget that," the professor said, a shiver racing down his spine at the horrible memory. "But what's he going to do to me now? I've got cops in the front and back of the house and a terrific FBI agent standing next to me. I think I'll be okay."

"Fair enough," Don agreed. "So are you going to have some results for me before you go?"

"That's what I was trying to do, but I don't think I have enough time. Right now I'm actually inputting the data from my chalkboards into my laptop so I can work on your case at Uncle Ernesto's. I mean, we'll be far enough away that Gardenia can't try to go after me again, right?"

"Yeah, you'll be fine out there."

"Then there's no reason for me not to work on the case."

"But you can't call me, Charlie. I want you thousands of miles away at a location he can't trace, just in case he gets the urge to try something else."

"I can email, though," the professor pointed out. "I can send it from a dummy account and bounce it off so many servers that it would take them a decade to come anywhere close to finding me."

"That sounds like a good idea," Don complimented him. "Oh, with all that happened today I forgot to tell you this. We found traces of vegetation from a Tecate cypress on Sergio's body. We suspect that cypress may grow near the safe house and from the cursory research I did earlier, it looks like it's very rare."

"That's great," his younger brother smiled. "That should narrow my results down even farther."

"I thought so." Don paused as he studied his brother with a look of admiration on his face. "I really appreciate all that you're doing to help us out."

"My pleasure, Don. I have an idea about how important this is to you."

"Oh yeah?" Don challenged.

"I know the agent that was killed was from Albuquerque."

"Megan told you that?"

"Actually, yes," Charlie replied. "But only because she was trying to be as thorough as possible in giving me the data I needed for the case."

"And Jackson's old office was significant?" Don asked dubiously. "Sounds like you're trying to cover for her."

"Whatever, Don. The point is, I know. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you probably worked with him out there."

"I did," the agent admitted.

"And I did some sniffing around on the Internet in my spare time-"

"Spare time?" Don cut him off as he laughed. "I'm going to remind you that you said that the next time you tell me you're too busy to help me on a case."

"When have I ever said I was too-" He stopped speaking and shook a finger at his brother. "Nice diversionary tactic, bro. Like I was saying, I did some research and found out that it's almost impossible to get into the LA office without something to set you apart from the crowd. For you I assume it was heading up the Albuquerque office."

"Good assumption."

"But when I checked into Jackson's file I didn't see anything spectacular. That's when I realized that if someone who had the respect of the Bureau put in a good word, that alone might be enough." Charlie stopped speaking as he let what he'd just said sink in.

"You've become a pretty good little detective," Don observed dryly.

"I learned from the best."

"I wish everyone would quit saying that. If I really was the best…" He shook his head and flopped onto the sofa.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"_What?_"

"Drop it, Chuck."

"You blame yourself, don't you?"

"Is it the 'drop' or the 'it' you're having a problem with?"

"It's not your fault, Don." Charlie saved the data on his laptop and joined his brother on the sofa. "You didn't make Jackson become an agent or even make him come out here."

"He had almost no chance at that transfer without my recommendation."

"So what? Are you seriously telling me that he didn't face dangerous situations in New Mexico?"

"Nothing that got him killed," Don spat. "That didn't happen until he got out here with me."

"And I suppose you put a knife in Gardenia's hand and told him to slit Jackson's throat?"

"Watch it," Don hissed angrily. His eyes held a fury the likes of which Charlie had never seen before and for one irrational moment the professor was certain Don was about to hit him. Then the emotion disappeared and the agent's professional mask slid back into place. "If you're done out here then I'd like to go inside."

Realizing that he wasn't going to make any headway until his brother was in a better place, Charlie reluctantly nodded. "Sure, Don. I think we both could use some sleep."

--

First thing the next morning Don dropped his father and brother off at the airport with a quick, heartfelt goodbye before heading to his office. He smiled as he found his team at their desks, already working hard despite the early hour. "Has someone already made the coffee?" he asked in greeting.

Peering over her reading glasses, Megan nodded. "There's just enough left for you. Did Charlie and Alan make their flight okay?"

"Yeah," Don told her. "Neither one of them was really happy about it, but they understand why they need to go." He tossed his jacket over the back of his chair and headed for the break room, not surprised when Megan got up from her desk and followed him.

"You're going to miss them."

"Is that a question?" Don asked as he poured the rest of the coffee into his mug.

"An observation," she replied. "They know they can't call you?"

"What am I, a rookie agent? Yes they know they can't call. Charlie's rigging up this email server bouncing something or other so he can at least send us his list of possible safe house locations."

"He's not one to back down from a challenge," Megan chuckled.

"No, he's definitely not."

"Or a chance to help his big brother."

Don frowned at her as he moved to rummage through the refrigerator. "Are you about to start psychoanalyzing me?"

"Would I do such a thing?" she asked in a light tone.

"Most definitely," the senior agent shot back as he threw out three opened containers of milk. "I swear nobody around here ever throws anything out. They think the expiration date is a guideline?"

"Way to change topics," she chuckled. "Seriously, I just want to say that I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

"Did my dad put you up to this before he left?" He finally found an unopened carton and finished preparing his coffee.

"I'd never tell if he had," she winked. "I know you're close to your family – eating dinner with them quite frequently and working with Charlie so much. I just want you to know that even though they're not here, I am. And I'm more than happy to offer… whatever you might need."

"Like my dad's recipe for lasagna?"

"You're absolutely impossible," Megan sighed in exasperation. "Just tell me you got my message and I promise I'll shut up."

"I did," Don replied in a serious tone. "And thank you for that. You're number two on my Nextel, remember?"

"Good."

The two agents walked back into the bullpen together and frowned as they saw the look of disgust on their friends' faces.

"What happened?" Megan inquired.

"There was a leak," Colby growled. "In the ATF."

"Who?" Don demanded.

"Not a field agent we've been working with," David answered as he handed his boss a file. "Her name is Melissa Shrader. She's one of the transcribers who have been working on the Gardenia wiretaps."

"I thought we weren't having much luck with those?" Don asked as he flipped through the folder in his hands.

"Yeah," Megan agreed. "I thought we were mostly working with information from confidential informants."

"Apparently Melissa's one of those sweet, innocent, pleasure-to-work-with girls," Colby rolled his eyes. "And hot. So the big, bad ATF boys have been trying to impress her with their adventures, including our little weapons bust."

"They figured no big deal because she is an agent and she does have clearance," David groaned. "None of them seemed to be aware that Melissa had a boyfriend."

"She leaked information to him on purpose?" Don asked.

"That's debatable at this point," Colby informed him. "She claims she was just innocently chatting with her boyfriend – she seemed to forget the sensitive nature of the information – and had no idea that he was passing it along."

"Do we know who her boyfriend is?" Megan inquired,

"Freddy Cruz," David informed her. "Small time hustler with no obvious ties to Gardenia's gang. Don't even ask me how they got hooked up."

"He was just using her, I'm sure," Don noted. "Obvious or not, he has to have ties with someone in Gardenia's crew for the information about the weapons raid to have made it to the top. Is he in custody yet?"

"In the wind," Colby said. "ATF has an APB out for him. No hits yet."

"And if his contact finds out we're on to him then Cruz's lifespan is going to become significantly shorter," David pointed out.

"Right," Don agreed. "Let's split into two teams and start checking Cruz's known haunts. Hopefully we'll get to him before Gardenia's boys do."

--

"A problem?" Gardenia asked angrily. "We seem to be having a lot of those lately, Alfonso."

"I know," Delsorio reluctantly admitted. "But I have successfully taken care of all of them. This newest one will be no different."

"Elaborate," his boss ordered.

"There's a guy named Cruz who warned us about the last raid," Delsorio informed him. "He bragged about how he was seeing some ATF girl who told him all about it. He thought that he could work his way into our good graces and join up."

"And the problem?"

"He called to say his girlfriend's been detained and he's afraid he's next. He thinks we should help him out since he's proven his loyalty."

"What a fool," Gardenia sneered.

"I'm having some men meet up with him under the pretense of bringing him in to our organization." With a cold laugh, he added, "But I don't think he's going to survive the initiation."

"Good." Gardenia leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to look through his panoramic window. "You've been getting sloppy, my friend. See that it doesn't continue." He let the unspoken threat hang in the air between them.

"Of course," Delsorio assured him. He slipped from his boss's office and stormed down the hallway. Normally he'd leave a punk like Cruz in the hands of his men, but Gardenia was right – they had been sloppy lately. _This time it's going to be done right,_ Alfonso vowed to himself. _This time I'm going to take care of the matter personally._

--

Freddy Cruz peered from the shadowy doorway of the Peppermint Pachyderm, keeping an eye out for any sign of Gardenia's men. He couldn't believe he was about to be let into such a successful organization where he could really make a name for himself. And he owed it all to that sleazy tramp, Melissa. For such a looker, she sure had been boring as all get out. Some nights he had to force himself not to yawn in her face as he tried to steer her to more interesting topics, like the upcoming Gardenia raid.

Then this morning she'd called him in a panic from home to tell him that the ATF suspected her involvement and she was afraid they would be arresting her soon. Being the gentleman that he was, Freddy had hung up on her and bolted from his apartment back to one of his most trusted hangouts. He'd then made a phone call to his Gardenia contact who promised him that his help had not been forgotten and the organization would be happy to help him out of this jam.

A dark SUV cruised by, slowing to a crawl as it passed the doorway. Cruz eyed the muscle-bound guy in the dark jacket and shades who peered at him from the passenger seat. He gave a barely perceptible nod toward the doorway and the vehicle pulled to a stop along the curb. Freddy waited for the man to make a move, puzzled when all he did was hold up his watch and tap it.

_They have my cell number,_ Cruz thought to himself. _Why don't they call me?_

The muscle-bound guy shrugged and waved to the driver and Freddy frowned as the SUV started to pull away. His fear getting the better part of him, he ducked out of the shadows and hastily walked toward the departing SUV. The man in the passenger seat saw him and had the driver stop. "'Bout time," he growled at Cruz. "You getting in or what?"

"Can't blame a guy for being cautious," he nervously stammered as he reached for the handle of the back door. "There's bound to be Feds out looking-"

A loud noise silenced his voice as Freddy sank to the sidewalk, a dark red stain forming on his shirt.

"Damn," the man in the passenger seat swore. "All agents, we have shots fired! Target is down!"

A loud squeal of tires registered in Freddy's sluggish mind and it occurred to him that his killers were probably getting away. He weakly flinched as a loud volley of gunfire screamed over his prone form, grateful when he didn't feel any other bullets slam into his body. After a minute of silence, he saw the muscle-bound man leaning over him.

"T-told y-you… Feds… l-looking."

"We _are_ the Feds, you moron," he snapped. "I'm Special Agent Granger with the FBI."

"Sh-shot m-me."

"We were in the truck, Cruz. How could we have shot you?"

"Others," Freddy panted.

"No," the agent argued. "Gardenia's buddies did this to you."

"N-no. Wouldn't."

"No? To them you're some wannabe lowlife they could use for intel. Once you became a liability, do you really think they wanted anything more to do with you?" At Freddy's vacant look, Granger yelled, "Think about it! We want you because you can lead us to them. And we don't shoot without provocation. We're the good guys, remember?"

"I w-was… be… im-important."

"Not to them," the other man said in a softer tone. "You never would have been important to them. But you can be a good person now. Help us stop these men before they kill someone else." Leaning even closer, Granger whispered, "Tell me who your contact is."

As the pain in his chest began to lessen, it dawned on Cruz that he was dying and that he did want to do something good to earn a ticket to the afterlife if there was one. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, he whispered, "Will…" The one syllable left him breathless and, despite the agent's insistent yelling in his ear, Freddy let the darkness claim him.

--

"Car!" Megan yelled to her boss as they sped down the street in pursuit of the suspect's vehicle.

"Got it," Don replied as he dodged a small sedan that had pulled in front of them.

"Lights and sirens don't mean anything to these people," Megan muttered in anger before returning to the radio. She radioed their current location to dispatch and kept watching the side streets for anyone else who wanted to take on a law enforcement vehicle.

"Did Colby get a glimpse of the people in the van?"

"No," Megan answered. "He was doing good to tell us it was a van."

"So there could be one suspect or five inside," Don growled. "Wonderful."

"Hopefully when we get them stopped we'll have enough backup to handle however many men there are."

"With the way our luck's been running I don't see that happening," he stated.

"Call me a perpetual optimist," she shot back.

He let a small grin cross his face at her sense of humor before growing serious as he tore down the streets, hot on the van's tail. His heart was pounding and he could _feel_ the adrenaline in his system as the chase continued away from downtown and into the outlying suburbs. A cold fear formed in his stomach as they began passing signs that advised them of children playing and school zones ahead.

"We have to catch him soon," Don thought aloud. "I don't want any innocent people getting hurt."

Glancing at her watch, Megan let out a small gasp. "School's out in ten minutes. We better try to get him to make a mistake."

"This guy's a pro," Don told her. "He knows what areas to avoid and how to make those last minute turns."

"An experienced getaway driver," Megan sighed. "Of course."

Don frowned as he intensified his efforts to keep a tight tail on the fleeing vehicle, while still keeping an eye out for any innocent bystanders. Because they were in a residential area, both Don and the fleeing van were caught off guard when a large tractor-trailer pulled into the street, blocking the van's path. The suspect tried to make a sharp turn, but the van was too top heavy and quickly crashed onto its side.

Don had a little more distance in which to react and managed to halt the SUV, the vehicle momentarily dancing on two wheels but ultimately remaining upright. He slipped from the vehicle and crouched beside the front tire as he studied the van ahead of them. He knew Megan had assumed an identical position on the opposite side of their SUV, so he called out, "FBI! Step away from the van with your hands where I can see them!"

They waited, each taking deep, even breaths to steady their aim, but no one appeared. "FBI!" Megan yelled. "Come out where we can see you!"

After another thirty seconds of silence, Don edged forward and – without taking his eyes off the van – advised Megan to cover him. He chewed his gum in a rhythm that matched his pounding heart as he took baby steps toward the suspect's vehicle. Don kept his gun drawn and lined up with his gaze as he swept the area in front of him. When he finally reached the vehicle he peered through the broken windshield all the way to the back of the van.

"Dammit!" he yelled as he pounded a fist on the steel doorframe. "They're gone!"

Megan nodded and radioed for backup to search the area as she moved to her boss's side.

"Perpetual optimist?" he asked dryly.

"So sometimes I'm disappointed," she shrugged.

"Right," Don said as he moved to the back of the van and pulled open the doors. His gaze moved over the piles of papers, fast food wrappers, and shop rags, looking for anything that might be of use. The agent's face brightened as he spotted a pair of worn gardening gloves with tiny pieces of green vegetation on them. "That look like it could be Tecate cypress to you?"

Megan peered into the gloomy interior and nodded. "It sure does."

"So the cypress stuff transfers from the gardening gloves to Sergio's body," Don said as he looked expectantly at Megan.

"Which means our shooter or someone involved in the shooting wore those gloves. There could be more trace on them."

"Even better that that," Don grinned. "He wasn't wearing them while he was driving. We could have his prints somewhere inside this van."

"See?" Megan beamed. "Perpetual optimist."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

"Williams, Wilson, Wilshire, Willingham," Colby rattled off. "And that's just last names. First names? Wilson, William, Will-"

"I get the picture," David interrupted his coworker. "So maybe 'Will' isn't the best lead we ever had, but we should be able to do something with it."

"Oh to have our resident math genius back," the other agent sighed.

"Come on, man. We can do this ourselves. Pull a list of all of Gardenia's known and suspected associates and check for anyone with 'Will' in their name."

"Sure," Colby sighed. "It's just a lot less work when Charlie's around. He'd whip up some filter or something and we'd have our answer in seconds."

"Not getting lazy are you?" David teased.

"Whatever," Colby rolled his eyes as he started gathering a list of names. "When are Don and Megan getting back?"

"We're back," Megan replied as she and Don entered the bullpen. "We were making sure our van got bundled off to evidence retrieval safe and sound."

"So, 'Will'?" Don asked with a sigh. "That's a hot lead."

"I'm checking a list of our crime boss's known associates for anyone with that in part of their name."

"Good idea, Granger," Megan told him.

When Colby didn't correct her, David cleared his throat. "Yeah, he's just full of good ideas."

"I am," Colby smiled at his friend.

"Full of something," David mumbled as he turned back to filling out his report about the shooting.

The foursome settled down at their desks as they worked through the remainder of their evening, Colby reading through his list while the other three agents filled out reports about the day's incidents. Right before seven, Colby smiled and held up a page for the others to see.

"Victor Wilson," he announced. "Arrested in '05 for suspicion of weapons trafficking. Also has two more arrests this year for suspicion of drug trafficking."

"Sounds promising," Don nodded.

"Promising, nothing," Colby told his boss. "Guess what sleaze ball lawyer showed up for his questioning?"

"Lamar Salazar," Megan said.

"You got it," Granger replied. "Lawyer of choice for anyone in organized crime."

"Have LAPD put out an APB on Wilson," Don ordered. "See if we can get him in here for questioning."

"Will do."

Waiting until Colby had done as requested, Don addressed his team. "Good work today, guys. I know we lost Cruz but there's nothing you could have done differently. Hopefully the van will give us some new leads."

"It has to," David said. "We're due for a big break."

"Past due," Don nodded. "Let's knock off for tonight. You know the drill – bright and early tomorrow morning."

Don watched as his team said their good nights and left before turning to his computer to shut it down. He noticed the new mail message and checked his inbox, a laugh escaping his lips at the user who had sent him a message – Fibonacci112358. _Atta boy, Chuck,_ Don grinned as he opened the message.

_Donny-boy,_

_Have just gotten settled in. Will work on locations tomorrow. Hope you are safe. Oh, Fibonacci, Sr says hi and be careful. _

_Later._

_Golden Ratio_

Don chuckled as he closed the message out and turned off his computer before grabbing his jacket and heading to the elevators. Checking his watch, Don frowned as he calculated how little sleep he would be getting tonight. _Better sleep at Charlie's again. Just because it's closer – not because I need to feel closer him and Dad._

_Yeah, right, Eppes,_ he groaned to himself. _You always were a bad liar._

--

Unfortunately even the comfortable, welcoming aura of his brother's house couldn't soothe Don to sleep. He lay sprawled on the sofa as his mind ran ninety-to-nothing through the events of the past few days. He let out a frustrated sigh as he realized that, aside from a rare tree, they really weren't any closer to tracking down Gardenia than they had been before the disastrous raid. Two potential leads had quickly evaporated into nothing and Don was starting to wear down from all of the work he was putting into the case. He wondered if he would be as determined to catch Gardenia if it Jackson hadn't been killed.

_And he almost wasn't,_ Don remembered with a sigh. _He almost wasn't there. He **shouldn't** have been there…_

"_Hey, boss man!"_

_Don looked up from his desk, his face lighting up as Bobby Jackson strolled into the bullpen. "Bobby! About time you got your butt to work!" The two men shared a quick embrace before Don dragged his friend to meet the rest of his team. "Hey guys, this is Bobby," he introduced. "My friend from Albuquerque."_

"_David Sinclair," David said as he offered his hand. "Nice to meet you."_

"_Pleasure's mine," Jackson replied as he tightly gripped the other man's hand._

"_Colby Granger."_

"_Pleasure," Jackson nodded._

"_Megan Reeves."_

"_Definitely a pleasure," Bobby said with a grin._

"_Afraid not," she cautioned him with an amused grin. "I've got an astronaut for a boyfriend."_

"_I could never compete," he shrugged with a playful smile. "Seriously, I've got a lovely wife and three wonderful kids at home. Wild horses couldn't drag me away from them." Looking back to Don and then around the bullpen, he asked, "Where's my team leader?"_

"_Believe it or not, he's out sick," Don informed him. "I told him you really weren't **that** bad-"_

"_Hey, old man," Jackson protested. "Don't be spoiling my reputation."_

"_You'd have to have had one before I could spoil it," Don shot back._

"_Whatever," the younger man laughed. "So, where's my desk?"_

"_Right over there," Don answered as he gestured across the rows of desks. "I'll show you."_

"_Hey, Don," Colby stopped him. "ATF just called. You know that shipment they've been keeping an eye out for?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_It's here. The deal's going down in the next two hours. We need to get geared up and moving ASAP if we want to make the party."_

"_Let them know we're on our way."_

"_Will do."_

"_A party?" Jackson asked with a twinkle in his eyes. "With bad guys in handcuffs as party favors?"_

"_If all goes well," Don nodded. "I'll show you to your desk but then I've got to go."_

"_Hey, why don't I tag along? I'd love to get my feet wet on the first day."_

"_You just got here," Don said doubtfully. "I don't think you should run right out into the field."_

"_Come on, Don," Bobby sighed. "This is me we're talking about. I'm not some wet-behind-the-ears rookie. I can help." Seeing that Don wasn't wavering, he started in again. "I bet my leader was supposed to be on the team that went in? Am I right?"_

"_Yes," Don hesitantly admitted._

"_Then catch me up to speed on the way and I'll take his spot. And if you're still uncomfortable with the idea by the time we get there then I'll stay in the car as backup."_

"_Bobby…"_

"_Come on, boss man," Jackson said. "It'll be just like old times."_

_Remembering how good of an agent his friend was and that he had emphasized that in his recommendation, Don's resolve crumbled. "Toss your stuff in your desk and follow me to the locker room."_

"_Thanks, Don."_

The last two words echoed in Don's ears as the memory faded. He couldn't believe he had given in and agreed to let Bobby go along. If he'd just gone with his instincts…

With a deep sigh, Don allowed his eyes to close and was surprised to find himself drifting off to sleep… although the nightmares that soon followed were definitely not a surprise.

--

Alfonso Delsorio prided himself on being a smart man. He'd grown up in a rough neighborhood and had quickly learned that he had a flair for criminal activities. He'd learned how to successfully determine which up and comers were going to make the big time and how to stay on their good side, even if it meant spinning a lie or two to remain there. Given how dangerous it could be to tell an untruth to a crime boss, Delsorio had perfected the skill over the years.

A fact he was tremendously grateful for at the moment.

"What went wrong this time?" Gardenia was asking, his normally even voice holding a hint of anger.

"Wilson screwed up," Delsorio answered, his unblinking gaze never wavering from his boss's face. "He was driving the van…" Lie number one. "…And he made the shot that took Cruz down." Lie number two.

"And you were with him?"

"Yes, I was. Wilson was a pretty impressive member of our organization so I wanted to test him to see if he should be advanced up the ranks."

"But he screwed up," Gardenia hissed. "This little incident was all over the news. 'Gunfire on the Streets of LA' I think they called it." Leaning across his desk, his eyes boring into Delsorio's, he added, "I saw Cruz on the cameras. Did you realize there was a news crew right there when it happened?"

"Oh?" Alfonso asked as his mouth grew dry.

"Doing a behind-the-scenes bit on the life of an exotic dancer," Gardenia said dismissively. "Completely ridiculous if you ask me, but it did give them a front row seat for what happened. You two are very fortunate that they didn't turn the cameras toward the action until after you got away. But… would you like to know what they _did_ catch on tape?"

Delsorio gave a nod despite the way his stomach knotted in fear.

"Cruz was talking to the Feds!"

"No way," Delsorio shook his head, before realizing he'd just contradicted a very powerful and dangerous man. "I mean if you saw it then of course it happened, but I saw Cruz go down."

"Well this Wilson moron didn't make a very good shot," Gardenia growled. "Because Cruz was still alive long enough to speak."

Alfonso nodded in agreement, silently praising himself for having the foresight to have brought Wilson with him. The second in command had wanted a scapegoat in case he screwed up the hit and Wilson had been more than eager to oblige. Of course the unwitting man had thought he was being promoted – not set up to take a fall.

"Alfonso!"

Delsorio looked up at the sharp tone of his boss's voice and shook his head. "Sorry. I was thinking of our next move."

"While I appreciate your trying to stay ahead in the game, I expect my questions answered first."

"Of course."

"What happened to your vehicle after the hit?"

"Wilson," Delsorio spat angrily. "He was driving and he ran right into an eighteen wheeler. We were doing good to escape with our lives and our freedom."

"So this Wilson fellow almost cost us a great deal," Gardenia stated as he expectantly eyed his second in command.

"Yes," Alfonso replied. "He was also Cruz's contact so if Cruz did talk, he probably gave up Wilson's name."

"Then you know what needs to be done."

"I'll take care of it," Delsorio assured him, seeing no reason to let his boss know that he had already eliminated his scapegoat. "There is one other matter I wanted to run past you."

"Go ahead."

"The agent chasing us in the SUV today was Eppes."

"_What?"_ Gardenia angrily demanded. "I thought that little stunt with his brother was supposed to scare him off."

"It should have," Delsorio insisted. "Maybe I miscalculated his feelings about his brother or maybe he's just stupid or uncaring. Either way, I think we need to do something more _permanent_ to his family."

"You're the one who said that killing his brother would bring in a whole new headache of federal agencies," the crime boss pointed out.

"And I still think it would. But his father is a different story – no ties to any law enforcement agency. We can use him to send a very clear, very powerful message to Eppes. Something he can't ignore."

"Sounds good," Gardenia nodded in approval. "But I expect you to handle this matter _personally_. I don't want any more screw ups."

"No sir," he assured his boss. "I'll handle everything myself."

Gardenia nodded and Delsorio stepped out of his boss's office and into the hallway. Only then did he allow a shaky breath to slip from his mouth. He could only imagine what his fate would have been if his boss found out that he had been the one to screw up the latest hit. _But,_ Alfonso reminded himself. _I am a very smart man. That's why I made sure Wilson never had a chance to tell anyone what really went down today._

--

"Why do I feel like we're banging our heads against a brick wall?" Don asked early the next morning as he and his team stood in a deserted alley.

"This is ridiculous," Colby growled as he knelt beside the dead body of Victor Wilson. "They're killing people faster than we can find them!"

"What did LAPD say when they called this morning?" Don asked David.

"Just that they'd found our boy, single gunshot to the head, execution-style." David cocked his head and studied the corpse, especially the area around the injury. "I know we're waiting on the ME, but I'd say the bullet caliber is the same as the one that killed Sergio."

"I think that's a safe bet," Don agreed. "I also think it's a safe bet that his prints match any we find in the van."

"Right," David nodded as he looked back at his notes. "They've canvassed the area and no one reported hearing gunshots last night or this morning."

"He was probably killed somewhere else," Don said. "After the Sergio thing I imagine they realized the wisdom in killing the victim in one place and then dumping his body in another." Looking around the filthy, junk-filled alley, Don fought back a wave of hopelessness. "Might as well see what we can find."

The four agents spread out and walked the area around the crime scene, looking for anything that might help them in their search for Gardenia or his hit man. Minutes turned into a couple of hours as each agent methodically looked under, around and through piles of worthless garbage in the hopes of finding that one thing that could break the case wide open.

"Anything?" Don yelled across the alley to his team.

"Yeah – days old vomit really stinks."

"There's a helpful clue, Granger," Megan shot back. Looking at Don, she shook her head. "Nothing here."

"David?" the senior agent asked.

"Maybe," he called back as he gingerly lifted an old, tattered blanket by its frayed corner. Holding it up, he pointed to a large red stain near one end. "Maybe our vic was wrapped up and transported in this?"

"Maybe," Don agreed as he and the other two agents joined David. Kneeling down, Don studied the lower edge of the blanket. "Looks like some kind of mud stain or something down here."

"Weird color, though," Megan observed. "Maybe it's something rare, too?"

"Bag it and send it to forensics," Don told David. "With any luck, we'll get another variable Charlie can use to narrow down the search."

--

"Charles!"

The professor jumped at the loud voice, nearly sending his laptop crashing to the floor. Looking up, he smiled sheepishly. "Hi, Uncle Ernesto. You kind of caught me off guard."

"Why are you out here working?" the other man asked in a hurt voice. "I thought you and your father were here to spend time with me."

"We are," Charlie assured his uncle. "But Don's got a really important case he's working on-"

"I know that," Ernesto said with a shake of his head. "It's why he couldn't come."

"Right. Well, I was helping him but we left before I could give him the data that he needed."

"Ah, yes," the older man said with a smile. "Your father – who _does_ believe in visiting with his family – said that you and Don had started working a lot together these past few years. You actually like getting involved in such horrible stuff?"

"I don't like seeing what man is capable of," Charlie said with a shake of his head. "But I like being able to help catch the creeps who commit such horrible crimes. And… I like helping Don. He sees more horrors than I could even dream of, so I love to be able to help him move past them as quickly as possible."

"That's a very noble thing to do," Ernesto said as he beamed at his nephew. "I always told Alan that his boys would grow to be outstanding men." He gestured to Charlie's laptop and then back to the house. "You can do this inside, you know. You don't have to exile yourself to my garage."

"Umm," Charlie blushed in embarrassment. "I do my best thinking in a garage."

"Oh," his uncle chuckled. "A mechanic of the mind, perhaps?"

"I don't fix people's minds," the professor countered.

"No, but you evaluate criminals and their crimes, right?"

"Yes."

"Like running a diagnostic on a crime scene – this is what happened here, which caused this here… And your work helps the FBI streamline its investigation? Makes them more efficient?"

"I guess I do," Charlie nodded.

"So one machine runs better while you look for flaws to help you stop the other from causing damage," Ernesto summarized. "Mental mechanic."

Laughing at his uncle's weird yet interesting argument, Charlie nodded. "Okay then, I guess I _am_ a mechanic."

"Well, tell me, my favorite mechanic, may I at least bring you some sort of refreshment to help you through your work?"

"Tea would be great." 

"Coming up," Ernesto told him as he turned to leave. He paused at the door and glanced back at his nephew. "I'm no fool, you know. I know you and your father aren't here on 'vacation'." Charlie shrugged under his uncle's studious gaze. "I figured there must be something going on at home. Something that requires your brother's presence while also requiring that your and your father not be there."

"If we thought you were in any danger-" Charlie began.

"I know," Ernesto smiled softly. "And I want you to know that you are welcome to stay as long as you need to."

"Thank you," the professor replied appreciatively.

"And I also want you to know that I am every bit as proud of you and Don as your father is." Ernesto grew serious and jabbed a finger in the direction of his nephew's laptop. "Now, get to work so Don can catch the creep that's trying to hurt my family."

"Will do, Uncle Ernesto."

--

"You were right about the prints in the van," David told his boss after they had returned to the office. "They belonged to our dead guy."

"Great," Don sighed in frustration. "Another dead end."

"There is some interesting information about the van itself," David told him. "It was reported stolen from a used car lot in Anaheim three days ago."

"The Tecate cypress we found was indigenous to San Diego," Don thought aloud. "Anaheim is right between LA and San Diego."

"And the van was stolen about the time the raid went bad," Colby added. "That's a whole lot of coincidences."

"It sure is," Megan agreed. "But even knowing that he's probably in San Diego, that's a lot of area to search."

"Go ahead and alert the locals down there that we suspect Gardenia might be in their area," Don told her. "But if they _do_ spot him, I don't want them making a move until we get there."

"I'm on it," she told him as she picked up the phone and started making some calls.

"Charlie's search should be able to help us narrow this down even farther," Colby said. "Has he contacted us yet?"

"I haven't checked since we got back from the field," Don told him as he booted up his computer. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the desktop as his email program loaded. The resulting chime indicating new mail was the best sound he'd heard in days. "Here it is."

_Donny-boy,_

_Hope things are still going well. Here's the short version of what I've found out:_

_Tecate Cypress occurs from Orange and San Diego counties down into Baja California, usually on rocky slopes and inclines. In Orange County it's concentrated in a reserve in Irvine where no residences are allowed, so I put significantly less emphasis on that region._

_Based on his previous two safe houses, he likes isolation, moderate to richly developed landscaping on the scale of five to ten acres and a good view. _

_I took a topographical map of the San Diego and Baja California regions and cross-referenced it to population density maps. I attached the resulting map and highlighted areas by their likelihood. Red has the highest probability and blue has the lowest. It's still a lot of land and nearly two thousand residences, but that's the best I could do. I'm working on getting some surveyor's maps of the areas to see if I can further narrow the results by acreage, but I haven't had any luck so far._

_Hope that helps a little. Later when I have more._

_Golden Ratio_

"Golden Ratio?" David asked with a chuckle as he read over his boss's shoulder.

"Forget that," Colby smirked. "_Donny-boy_?"

"Another word on that and you'll do desk duty the rest of your career," Don cautioned Colby. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, a deep frown creasing his face. "Two thousand residences? That's a whole lot of properties to research."

"We should get the forensics report back on Wilson and the alley tomorrow," David reminded him. "Hopefully we'll get something useful from that."

"I doubt it with the way this case is going," Don grumbled. Looking at his watch he groaned at the late hour, his frustration ratcheting as he realized they had wasted yet another day. "Call it a night, guys. Be-"

"Back in the morning, bright and early," Megan finished as she rejoined her friends. "We have to get you a new line, Don."

"Just as soon as we catch Gardenia," he promised her. "Now go home before I change my mind." He grinned as his team made an exaggerated point of rushing to the elevator and waving goodbye. He just shook his head as he turned back to his computer and typed a response.

_Golden Ratio,_

_Glad you and Fib Sr arrived safe. Thanks for the info. It may be a lot to search but it's better than what we had before. Take care and hope to see you soon._

_Donny-boy_

_P.S. If you ever call me Donny-boy in person they'll never find your body._

With a huge smile, Don turned off his computer and left his workstation for the night. Before he realized what he was doing, he'd already pointed his SUV in the direction of Charlie's house.

--

Delsorio stealthily moved through the Eppes' backyard to the driveway, peeking over the fence to find two cars parked there. Momentarily confused, he glanced over at the darkened house and searched for any sign that somebody was home. Finding none, he deduced that the father and son must be out with someone and that this would be the perfect time to sneak in and wait for his victim to arrive. The only concern he had now was how to kill the old man without seriously harming the brother.

_Just get inside,_ he thought. _Then you can figure the rest out._

He crept to the back door and tried the handle, disappointed but not surprised when it didn't budge. Alfonso briefly considered breaking a pane of glass in the door, but didn't want the men to see something was amiss when they arrived home. He decided to circle the ground floor of the house, looking for a window that seemed dirtier and less used than all the others. Delsorio finally found what he'd been looking for and, as quietly as possible, broke through one of the panes. Hefting the window up, he scrambled inside and landed hard on the floor, almost hitting his head on the sturdy leg of a nautilus weight bench.

_Perfect,_ he thought. _This is the least likely room for them to use tonight with them getting home so late._

Alfonso walked to the door and peered through it, marveling at how good of a view he had of the front door and the living room. _I can just watch them from here and either get the old man after the son goes to bed, or wait until they've both gone and kill the father in his room._

Finding a comfortable and inconspicuous place to position himself, Delsorio settled in and waited for his target to arrive.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Don slipped through Charlie's front door, tossing his wadded-up fast food bag in the trash. He slipped out of his jacket and set the mail he'd grabbed from the box on the front table – after thumbing through it, of course. _Gotta make sure little bro is keeping the bill collectors happy,_ he chuckled to himself. He knew his habit of checking through his family's mail baffled his father and annoyed his brother, but the protector in Don wanted to make sure he knew if anything was going wrong. At least that's what Don told himself.

Deciding to forego the hike up the stairs, the weary agent sank into the familiar, welcoming couch cushions and turned on the television. He sped through the channels at warp speed until he found a news talk show he was sure could put him to sleep in no time flat. He tossed the remote on the coffee table, set his watch alarm and let the flickering light of the TV screen lull him to sleep.

--

Delsorio's heart rate spiked when he heard the vehicle pull up in the driveway. Truth be told, he'd been so bored that he'd almost dozed off – definitely not a good idea when lying in wait to kill someone. He concentrated on keeping his breathing even and regular and as close to silent as he could get. The front door started to open and Alfonso felt the adrenaline flow into his bloodstream as he waited to see if it was the father or brother or both.

His hopes were crushed as he recognized Don Eppes enter the house and lock the door behind him. He glared at the unaware agent as he moved into the living room and stretched out on the couch. The television came to life and Delsorio let himself relax a bit, knowing the sounds of the program would cover his own.

Alfonso wondered why the agent was home alone when his family wasn't. Would he really come over without their permission? Or…

_No!_ he screamed silently as a horrible idea dawned on him. Had Eppes sent his family away to protect them? That would explain why both cars were in the driveway and why the agent was making himself at home when his family wasn't there.

Delsorio felt his fury increasing as he realized that Eppes had foiled his plans yet again. He found himself slipping from the workout room and into the living area, his mind screaming at him to stop – that killing the agent was a big no-no – but his feet refused to obey, bringing him closer and closer to the sleeping figure. As he neared the other man, Alfonso felt his determination to end Eppes' life growing to the point where he could no longer ignore the urge. Sure, Gardenia would be upset – livid even – but Delsorio knew he'd come up with a worthwhile explanation. After all, he could lie with the best of them.

As he got within arm's reach, the would-be assassin reached behind him and pulled his gun from where it was tucked into the back of his jeans.

_Time to join your friend._

--

If he looked back on it, Don knew he'd never be able to say what it was that woke him from a dead sleep, but wake up he did – just in time to see a shadowy figure wielding a gun as he walked toward him. In less than a second Don was on his feet, crouched on the floor and then springing at his attacker. As their bodies made contact, Don heard the wind being knocked from his assailant's lungs.

The agent took advantage of the other man's shocked reaction to drive a shoulder even farther into his stomach, sending both of them crashing to the floor. The sound of metal skidding across the room told Don that he'd managed to disarm his attacker, but that didn't stop him from fighting back – which he did by driving a fist into the agent's lower back. Don bit back a cry of pain as he grasped at his attacker's arm, trying to use any leverage he might have to flip the other man onto his stomach.

The intruder was too agile and quick, leaving Don grabbing at thin air as he slid out from under the agent and ran toward the gun. Don propelled himself to his feet and drew his weapon – thank God he'd crashed on the couch before thinking to leave it on the front table – and yelled, "FBI! Freeze!"

His attacker hesitated, half turned toward Don but still searching for his missing gun by the light of the television. The agent happened to be near the lamp on the end table by the couch and snaked a hand out, switching it on to reveal a very familiar face.

"You were driving the pickup," he accused his attacker as he flashed back to the day Jackson had died. "You helped Gardenia escape."

The other man glared at him, not saying anything to agree or disagree with the agent's statement.

"What's your name?" Don demanded.

The attacker remained mute as he slid his eyes back toward where his gun lay on the floor.

"Don't try it," Don warned him. "You know damn good and well I'm not afraid to put a bullet in you."

"Better to die like a man than surrender like a coward," he hissed, turning and lunging for the weapon.

Don's reaction was lightning fast – squeezing two shots off and hitting center mass. He followed through by approaching the bleeding man and kicking the gun far out of his reach. The attacker's dark eyes stared hatefully up at him as he choked on the blood filling his mouth.

The agent unclipped his cell from his belt and called for an ambulance before calling his team. Reassured that they were on their way, Don knelt beside the other man and tried to reason with him. "Just tell me your name." The dying man's eyes bore holes into Don's face. "Tell me where Gardenia is hiding."

"F… you."

"Haven't you lost enough lives on your side?" Don inquired angrily, not knowing that the man before him had been responsible for most of those murders. "Aren't you sick of the killing?"

With something resembling a triumphant sigh, the intruder released his last breath and left the agent alone to wonder how many more people were going to die before Gardenia was safely locked away in prison.

--

"You okay?" Megan asked her boss.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Don replied sarcastically. "Some guy just broke into my brother's house, probably intent on killing him and my father. I'm great – thanks for asking."

She started to snap back but quickly caught herself and swallowed her words. She could tell by the way he sat slumped on the couch, eyes glued to the bloodstain on the floor, that he was deeply shaken. _Of course he is,_ Megan sighed. _If we hadn't sent Charlie and Alan away, they would probably be…_ "It's a good thing you talked them into going away for a while," she told him.

"Yeah," he replied flatly, his gaze still riveted to the floor.

Megan regarded her friend in silence as she tried to decide if he was in shock from the attack or if he was being overrun by feelings of guilt. _Probably a little of both, _she mused. _Guilt over Jackson and his family, over Charlie getting hurt, over what almost happened here. _Glancing at her watch, her eyebrows shot upward at how late – or early – it was. "We've got a couple of hours until you wanted us in the office," she informed him. "Are you planning on staying here or going back to your apartment?"

He checked his watch and let out a long sigh. "I hadn't thought about it," he admitted. "I'm too wired to sleep – that's for sure."

"Tell you what," Megan suggested. "Why don't I take you to breakfast? We can kill some time and head to the office afterward."

He finally lifted his gaze form the floor and managed to give her a grateful smile. "I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to."

"I know I don't," she said as she reached out and grabbed his hand. "But I want to."

"Okay." He wearily stood up from the sofa and glanced back at the spot where his attacker's body had lain. "Remind me to make sure someone gets in here to clean this ASAP."

"I will," Megan promised.

"I don't want Dad or Charlie to see…" He swallowed nervously and weakly gestured at the stain.

"I know," she whispered. "They'll never find out – I promise."

--

"Charlie?" Alan called as he peeked into Ernesto's garage. "Son, it's five in the morning."

"Five?" the professor replied through a yawn. "So when's breakfast?"

"You're missing the point," Alan groused as he sat in an old chair Ernesto had brought to the garage the night before. "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?"

"I… dozed."

"Right," Alan drawled. Nodding at Charlie's laptop, he inquired, "You're still working on Don's case?"

"I should be able to narrow his search down," Charlie said with a hint of anger in his voice. "But no matter what I do with the data, I get the same ridiculous number of possibilities." He looked up and guiltily met his father's gaze. "That's too much work for Don to do."

"You know," Alan said as he leaned forward in the old chair. "He's not a one-man army; he does have other agents to help him. And he was doing this before you came along to help."

"Wow, Dad," the professor teased. "You sure know how to make a guy feel useful."

"That's not how I meant it and you know it," his father scolded. "Seriously, Charlie, you have to get some sleep sometime."

"The sooner Don catches this guy, the sooner we – and Don – will be safe." Gesturing around them in mild annoyance, he added, "And the sooner we can go home. I don't know about you, but I miss _my_ bed."

"You're worried about him," Alan stated.

"Aren't you?" Charlie asked quietly.

"Every day," Alan confided. "But I still live my life because that's what makes Don's life easier – not worrying about us, too."

"I never thought of it like that," the professor said. "It makes a lot of sense, though."

"Of course it does," Alan smiled. "Father knows best, remember?"

"Sorry," Charlie ribbed him. "I haven't heard that one before."

"What about 'respect your elders'? Have you heard that one?"

"I think I might have heard some vague reference to it somewhere."

"You're a laugh a minute, son." Alan stood and walked over to Charlie and his laptop, gesturing at the screen full of data. "Save it, close it, and come inside for breakfast."

"I _am_ hungry," Charlie agreed.

"Good," his father responded. "And afterwards you're going to get some sleep."

"But-"

"No buts," Alan insisted. "You're going to do it because Don would want you to." Once the words had left his mouth, Alan winced at how they made it sound like his oldest son had died. He could tell by the look on Charlie's face that he was thinking the same thing. "Maybe we can email him sometime today just to say hi and check in," the older man said in an attempt to erase the mood his previous statement had created.

"That sounds like a very good idea, Dad."

--

"You two are early," Don commented to Colby and David as he and Megan entered the bullpen.

"When we heard what happened last night we decided we couldn't afford to sit around and wait," Colby replied. "We decided we might as well get started on that list."

_So that's why they didn't show up at the house,_ Don thought. He'd been a little hurt that Megan had been the only one to show, but now it all made sense. A tremendous feeling of pride blossomed in his chest at his team's dedication and concern for him and his family. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," David waved a hand as his phone rang. "Least we could do."

"And the least you could have done was bring breakfast to share," Colby joked as he eyed the plastic bag in Megan's hand.

"This is for David," she shot back. "You mean you wanted something too?"

"She's kidding," Don chuckled at Colby's wounded look. "There's stuff for you too." The senior agent collapsed in his desk chair and stifled yawn as he watched his coworkers divvy up the contents of the bag. He'd been a little leery about accepting Megan's breakfast offer, certain she would try to psychoanalyze him the entire meal. Instead, she'd remained silent, letting him set the pace and direction of any conversation they were to have, for which he was eternally grateful.

"No syrup?" Colby grumbled as he rummaged through the plastic bag.

"I asked for some," Megan assured him.

"I can't have pancakes without syrup."

"Check the refrigerator then," she groaned.

"We can't even keep a carton of milk in date," Colby advised her as he headed for the break room. "You really think we're going to have _syrup?_"

"You never know if you don't look," Megan said as she followed him.

Don shook his head and grinned at their antics, more than happy to let them relax before they were required to face the frustration and hard work that lay ahead of them. He turned his computer on and checked his email, a huge smile lighting his face as he saw another email from Charlie.

_Donny-boy (and yes, I may just call you that in person),_

_Hope you are well. Fib Sr and I miss you and home very badly. Best of luck catching this guy so we can reunite. By the way, Fib Sr said he'll cook a nice steak dinner as a celebration when we get home. _

_Miss you,_

_Golden Ratio_

Don drew up a quick email to assure them he was hard at work on the case and sent it just as another agent was handing David a file. "News?"

"Forensics report on the blanket in the alley," the other man answered. "The blood did belong to Wilson."

"And the other stain?" Don queried.

"A mixture of gypsum, bone meal, phosphorous and other trace minerals," David read aloud.

"In English?"

"They're all chemicals used to treat poor soil for landscaping purposes," David answered.

"Charlie said Gardenia would want a moderately to heavily landscaped area," Don thought aloud.

"You'll love this," David said with a gleam in his eye as he tapped the report. "These chemicals are most commonly used in San Diego area."

"Which is one of the areas that Charlie predicted." Don picked up the list of locations that he had printed out from his brother's email and quickly scanned the list. "If we focus just on the San Diego area that eliminates the five hundred or so from Baja California."

"That's still fifteen hundred locations," David said with a shake of his head.

"No one ever said this job was easy," his boss reminded him.

"What's not easy?" Colby asked as he and Megan returned from the break room empty-handed.

Don nodded for David to fill the other two in while he typed out an email to Charlie.

_Golden Ratio,_

_We have evidence that puts our guy in San Diego. We found a stain made up of gypsum, bone meal, phosphorous and other trace minerals, used for landscaping in areas with poor soil qualities. Think you can use this data to narrow the list of San Diego residences even more?_

_Thanks,_

_Donny-boy_

"Math boy?" Colby asked as Don sent the correspondence.

"Yep," he smiled. "Hopefully he'll come through for us again."

"Doesn't he always?" Megan grinned.

"Right," her boss nodded. "In the meantime, why don't you identify local retailers who sell these gardening chemicals? Find out about how much would be needed to treat five to ten acres and see if they have any customers who order that much."

"On it," Megan said as she headed back to her computer.

"David," Don nodded at his coworker. "You see if you can get any of those maps like Charlie was looking for. If so get me a copy I can send to him and then you start going through them and see what you can come up with."

"You got it."

"And me?" Colby asked eagerly.

"Take the fifteen hundred residences and start tracking down the owners' names," Don told him.

"Oh boy," he sighed. "That's going to be a headache. What about you?"

"I'm going to go over to the OC unit and see if they can ID our dead attacker," Don replied. "Call me if any of you catch a break."

--

_Where in the hell is Alfonso?_ Gardenia angrily wondered as he glared at his watch. _He should have been here hours ago!_ Looking up at the doorway to his office, the crime boss stared at the opening as if he could will his second in command to appear. After coming up empty for several minutes, he snatched his cell phone off the desktop and placed a call to the missing man's cell. He immediately heard the non-descript voicemail message and slammed the phone down as he stood up from his chair.

"Colston!" he bellowed furiously. "Get in here _now_!"

A young man in his mid-thirties with a large scar across his cheek appeared in the doorway. "Yes sir?"

"Where is Alfonso?"

"I don't know, sir. He went out last night to take care of something but I haven't seen him since."

"That didn't concern you?" Gardenia asked in exasperation.

"Well, he seemed pretty upset when he left," the other man floundered for words. "I thought maybe he went for a drink or to blow off some steam afterwards."

"Quit making assumptions and find him!" the crime boss growled. "If he's been compromised then I need to know."

"He'd never give you up," Colston assured his boss.

"You'd better be right," Gardenia thundered. "Or I'll kill him myself." Seeing the fear in Joseph Colston's face and realizing that all of his men – Delsorio included – probably felt that way, he lowered his voice. _Best not to scare away all of the hired help,_ he told himself. "He went to Eppes' father's place to take care of his old man. Why don't you start looking from there?"

"Yes sir," Colston said, practically firing off a salute before he disappeared.

--

"Hey, Don," Agent Jerry Williams greeted.

"Jerry," he nodded back. "How're things in your little corner of the world?"

"You know Organized Crime – never a dull moment."

"I bet," Don said. "Did you get the photos I sent earlier?"

"Sure did," Williams said as he led Don to his workstation. "His name is Alfonso Delsorio. We're fairly certain that he is – _was_ – Gardenia's right-hand man."

"No kidding?" Don asked in surprise.

"Yeah. You must have ticked off Gardenia pretty good if this guy was your attacker."

"I suppose I did," Don shrugged. "He went after my brother first."

"He okay?" Williams asked with a concerned look.

"Got a couple of stitches but nothing he won't recover from. I sent him and my father off as far away as I could until the case is over. I was actually at my brother's house when Delsorio paid me a visit."

"You know, Gardenia isn't going to be too happy with you when he finds out what you did to his second in command. You under any kind of protective watch or anything?"

"No," Don replied with a firm shake of his head. "I fully intend to catch him before he has a chance to even think about revenge."

"OC's been after him for a couple of years now and we've had no luck," Williams advised him. "If we weren't so short-handed we'd have been in on that raid gone wrong the other night. I heard about the agent you lost. That's tough."

"Tell me about it," Don wearily sighed.

"I've been there – losing a man on a raid," Williams said in a supportive voice. "It'll get better eventually."

"I find that very hard to believe, but thanks for trying."

"Sure," Jerry said in understanding. "Anyway, what makes you think you're going to come out of nowhere and catch Gardenia?"

"A little secret weapon I like to call Professor Charles Eppes," Don smiled.

"The brother you mentioned?"

"You guessed it. He's got a flair for making the impossible happen."

"Is that right?" Williams replied in a hopeful voice. "Tell your brother that if he helps you pull this off then OC will throw a party in his honor."

Don chuckled as he reached over and shook Williams' hand. "Consider it done."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

"Charlie," Alan sighed as he studied his son from the doorway of the garage. "I thought we agreed you'd sleep after breakfast?"

"We did," the professor agreed. "But I wanted to check my email first and see if Don sent me some new data."

"Oh?" his father raised an eyebrow as he moved to Charlie's side. "Is he close to catching the bad guy?"

"We're getting closer but there's still a lot of work to do. This new information he sent should help me narrow his list of suspects to a much more manageable number than before."

"Anything I'd understand?" the older man inquired as he sank into a chair.

"I've put together a… location profile I guess you could call it, of what Gardenia would look for in a safe house. There was some trace evidence from a rare tree that Don found on one of the victims. That helped narrow it down a little bit but we still had two thousand possible locations. Now he's discovered more trace evidence – chemicals for soil enhancement – that I'm trying to use to eliminate more of those locations."

"How?"

"There are a handful of garden supply stores in the area, only three of which have the inventory to sell as much of this stuff as Gardenia would need. I'm mapping out the approximate areas they service over the possible locations from earlier and seeing how many I can narrow the list down to."

"What makes you so sure that he would use one of the stores in his area?" Alan asked curiously.

"I don't know for sure, but criminals tend to operate in a comfort zone. I'm hedging my bets that Gardenia and his men won't traipse across town to do their shopping."

"Makes sense," his father agreed.

"Hmm," Charlie mumbled thoughtfully as his computer made a series of dings.

"Is that a bad sound or a good sound?"

"Taking into consideration that we already removed the possible locations in Baja California – which accounted for right at five hundred – the new results put us at three hundred ninety-eight possible locations."

"That still sounds like an awful lot of work to do," Alan thought aloud.

"It is," Charlie grumbled. "There's got to be something else I can use. Something I'm overlooking."

"You know," his father said pointedly. "I bet if you take a little break it'll work wonders for your thought process."

"You've never looked up the definition of the word 'subtle', have you?"

"I mean it, Charlie. Take a break, grab some sleep and see what hits you when you wake up."

"Alright, alright – I surrender. Let me email these results to Don first." His fingers flew across the keyboard before he hit the send button and closed his laptop.

"I may not know 'subtle'," the older man smiled as he put his arm around his son's shoulders and guided him from the garage. "But I do know 'persistent'."

--

Don returned from the Organized Crime unit to find his team hunched over their desks, hard at work on their respective tasks. "How's it going?"

"Five retailers in the area maintain a large enough inventory to support a ten acre area," Megan told him. "And each one has around fifty customers that buy that much each month. Three of them are faxing me the customer list and the other two want a warrant."

"What?" Don asked as he rolled his eyes. "Gardener-customer privilege? Please."

"I'm getting the runaround from the county clerk's office," David told him. "He says they have the maps we need but that their office is very busy so we need to follow proper channels if we want the results faster than four to six weeks."

"Government bureaucracy at its finest," the senior agent sighed. "How about you, Granger?"

"I've tracked down the names of the owners and the lot size for the first eighty-nine residences on the list. Nothing's jumped out at me yet."

"Okay," Don nodded. "Listen everyone. You're all doing a great job on this. I know it's frustrating to work so hard and see almost no results, but keep chugging away at it. And to show my appreciation, lunch is on me, okay?"

Three heads all nodded in unison before turning back to their desks and getting to work. Don smiled at his team – best in the Bureau – and checked his email. His eyes widened in excitement as he saw a new message from Charlie. He opened it and read through it, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he saw the new list of possible locations. "Granger!"

"Yeah?" Colby asked as he looked over his shoulder at his boss.

"Great news," the older man told him. "Charlie's narrowed the list to less than four hundred names."

"That's wonderful," the other agent sighed happily. "I may manage to stay sane after all."

Don stood and grabbed the list from a nearby printer, handing it to his agent and clapping him on the shoulder. "I think today's the day we get our break," he spoke to his team. "I can feel it."

The hours passed and the agents remained hard at work, only taking a ten-minute break to wolf down the lunch that Don had ordered in. Megan received the faxes from the cooperative retailers and joined Colby, running her list of names against the names he'd obtained from the possible locations. David continued debating with the county clerk's office, one clerk at a time, until he was almost certain his name was considered a swear word in their department. Don took half of Colby's list and started looking up names and lot sizes, too, handing his results to a very tired looking Megan.

"You okay?" he asked as six o'clock rolled around.

"Fine," she mumbled around a huge yawn. She blushed as he cocked his head in amusement. "Okay, maybe I'm a little sleepy."

"A little? Right."

"I want to catch him as badly as you do," she told her boss.

His eyes clouded as he pictured Jackson's body, Charlie's stitches, and the attack at his brother's house. "I doubt that," he whispered quietly.

"It's true. Your family is like our family, too."

"She's right," David chimed in.

"Thanks guys." Don frowned as he looked at his half of Charlie's list. "I've barely managed to knock out a third of this."

"I've got half of mine done," Colby said as he handed the newest names to Megan. "But if I don't take a break now I'll wind up permanently cross-eyed."

"Wouldn't want that," Don grinned. "I'm going to stay another couple of hours, but why don't you guys head home?"

His three teammates looked at each other and then back at him. "Umm, because you're going to stay another couple of hours?" Colby suggested. "We aren't leaving until you do."

"Fair enough," their boss said with pride in his voice. "But at least grab a break so I don't have to foot your optometrist's bill."

--

"_Dead?_"

"Yes sir," Colston nervously told his boss. "Inside Eppes' brother's house."

"Eppes was there?" Gardenia asked in disbelief.

"Yes sir. And from what I managed to find out, his family wasn't. The neighbors – who really like to run their mouths – said they saw his father and brother leave the house with a lot of luggage a couple of days ago."

"He sent them away to protect them," Gardenia grumbled as he sank back into his chair. "He is a smart one."

Colston mutely nodded, unsure of what to do.

"Eppes killed him?" Gardenia asked, seeking clarification.

"Yes sir."

"Alfonso was very good to me, Joseph. When the time comes, Eppes is to pay dearly."

"Of course," the other man agreed.

"And he is to pay _at my hand_, no one else's – got that?"

"Yes sir."

"And for God's sake, quit calling me 'sir'!" the crime boss snapped. "If you're going to be my second then you don't need to be so formal."

"Yes s-" Colston choked back the last word and gave his new boss a firm nod. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good. Gather the troops and let them know about this tragic event. Emphasize what we just discussed and then triple our security here."

"Triple?"

"Yes, Colston. I have a feeling our determined FBI agent is going to find us very soon."

"Then shouldn't we change safe houses?" Colston suggested.

"No," Gardenia patiently replied. "Because once you beef up security, you're going to come back here with some of the other men under your command and we're going to figure out how to set up another trap for the Feds." He leaned across his desk and sized up the young man before him, pleased that Colston remained unflinching under his scrutiny. "And this time the Feds aren't going to get off so easily."

--

"Finally," Megan sighed just before eight-thirty that night. "A name that's on both lists."

"Really?" Don asked. "Who is it?"

"Louis Dikamali," she read aloud. "He's one of the monthly customers at The Gardening Gloves and he lives on an eight and a half acre property on the edge of San Diego County."

"What's the address?" David inquired.

"22135 Old Manor House Road," Megan answered.

"I'll see if I can get more info from the clerk's office now that I have a specific address."

"Good thinking, David," Don complimented. "Colby, run a background check on Mister Dikamali and see what you can find. I'll see if I can get some satellite footage of the house so we know what we're dealing with."

"I don't believe it," Colby said ten minutes later.

"What?" Megan asked. Don, who was till on the phone, raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't have criminal record, no warrants, not even a credit report," he told her. "So on a whim I googled the name and got nothing."

"You don't believe that?" she asked.

"Let me finish," Colby said as he waved a hand at her. "I decided maybe the last name would pull something – maybe a relative of Gardenia's or someone linked to him through a criminal channel. I got something even better."

"Spit it out," Megan insisted in frustration.

"Dikamali is a name for a type of gardenia."

"Are you serious?" she asked in surprise. "That's a pretty big coincidence."

"Not nearly as big as this – Dikamali gardenias are also commonly known as the 'Brilliant Gardenia'."

"Organized crime bosses do have over-inflated egos," Megan responded. "Makes perfect sense that Gardenia would choose that name."

"Good work, Colby," Don said as he hung up the phone.

"Do we get a bird's eye view?" Colby asked hopefully.

"Yep," Don nodded happily. "DOD is getting us some satellite views of that address. They said it'll be tomorrow morning before they have them ready for us to look at."

"Wow," Megan said in awe. "We finally did it."

"Yeah," Colby said proudly. "The only thing is… I don't want to wait to get them until tomorrow. What of he runs or something?"

"If he's even still there," Don growled as he rubbed his stiff neck. "But I want to see those images and put together a solid plan of attack. No one else is going to get killed on my watch."

"Better safe than sorry," Colby nodded in agreement.

"It's _one_ address!" David's voice rose in the background. "Not the entire county!"

"Ooh," Colby grinned with a twinkle in his eye. "He's got some clerk doing overtime tonight. I guess I should let him know he's off the hook, huh?"

"That would be nice of you," Don said as he waved him in David's direction. "See you both tomorrow. And be ready for some action."

"Always," Colby said with an adrenaline-fueled nod. "Later."

After he had left, Megan leaned close to Don and cocked her head. "I _know_ you're not planning on sleeping at Charlie's again."

"I hadn't really thought about it," he mumbled as he avoided her eyes.

"You're a horrible liar when it comes to your friends," she told him. "And I'm not really comfortable with the idea of you being alone at your apartment tonight."

"I'm a big boy," he reminded her. "And I carry a gun."

"And it's hard to protect yourself when you're asleep."

"Your point?" he asked.

"Stay at my place," Megan offered. "I've got a spare bedroom."

"That's going to start a whole lot of rumors," he joked.

"I mean it, Don. I'd feel better and I think you would too."

He silently regarded her for a moment before nodding his head. "Alright," he agreed in a serious tone. "But only if you promise to wear the red cowgirl pajamas."

--

"Are you sure?" Colston asked doubtfully. "That's going to be pretty hard to pull off."

"No it isn't," Gardenia sighed impatiently. "Listen to me carefully. When Eppes arrives he is going to have a large team of agents with him. The agents will all be paired in groups of two, possibly three, as they come in to watch each other's backs. You and the two men you select will be responsible for finding Eppes and luring him to the house. The rest of your men will keep the other agents at bay."

"And the ones that are with Eppes?" Colston inquired. "How do we deal with them?"

"Kill them, wound them, or just take potshots at them – something to keep their heads down. Not to mention that I know for a fact Eppes takes his agents' lives very seriously. If he catches you shooting at them, he'll be on you in no time, which is why you and your men must move quickly. Once you've led him into the house, the two men with you will seal off the doorway and keep the other agents outside while you lead Eppes straight to me."

"I'm not sure our men can hold off that many agents for that long."

"Of course they can't," Gardenia glowered at him. "That's why you have a third man watching the action from a safe distance. When he sees that you have gotten Eppes' attention, then he blows up the little present we have waiting for the rest of the agents. Whoever doesn't get killed will have to take cover to reassess the situation."

"And we'll have plenty of time to finish him off and escape during the confusion," Colston nodded. "I've got it now."

"The men who survive this upcoming battle – what have you told them?"

"I've given each man a different location to meet up at after they escape. That way no one will know where we're really escaping to and we can make sure the pickup area is safe before we put ourselves at risk."

"Excellent, Colston. You're going to fill Alfonso's shoes just fine." He swiveled in his chair to gaze out of his large window, smiling as he saw the men below moving with a sense of purpose and urgency. "We will not fail this time," he grinned malevolently. "And the FBI will soon regret the day it ever decided to mess with me."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Don lay on the bed in Megan's spare bedroom, staring up at the darkened ceiling and letting his thoughts flow freely through his tired mind. He knew tomorrow was going to be a big day – the day they took down Gardenia. Normally he would like to give a raid of this much importance a couple of days to be mapped out and honed to perfection, but there were too many deaths, too many killings and too great of a chance that the crime boss might slip through their fingers again. No, tomorrow was the day no matter what.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Don thought about how soon his family would be home if the raid went well. He missed their company, his father's cooking and even his brother's always complex yet usually interesting and animated lectures. _I miss them so much. Funny how things change. Just a few years ago I lived so far away and rarely came to visit. Oddly enough, I don't even miss Albuquerque at all now. Well, maybe some of the people._

Don felt bile rising in the back of his throat at the thought. _Jackson._ He unconsciously started rubbing his hands together as he remembered that horrible day and how helpless he'd been as the young man bled to death under his hands. _I never should have let you go into the field that day. Because of one stupid mistake, I've cost you your life and ruined the lives of your wife and kids. If I could go back in time and change it, I would._

But Don knew that was impossible – no matter what argument Larry liked to put forward – and that he would live with that feeling of guilt and the hole in his heart for the rest of his life. _But I can at least get justice for you, Bobby. And I will – I promise._

Don rolled over and blinked at the alarm clock that mocked him with its late hour. He knew he should sleep so he could be well rested and fully alert for the next day's coming action, but sleep would not come. He'd close his eyes and try to let go of all his tension but his eyes would spring open again as images of Bobby's bloody body and Charlie's injured face threatened to haunt his dreams.

_Just as well,_ he thought wearily. _I really don't want to have a nightmare and wake Megan up. I'd never get her off my back then._

Don forced himself out of bed and rummaged around for a pen and paper. Finding what he needed, Don sat at the small desk in the guest room and began drawing up a list of all of the manpower, vehicles, weapons and other supplies that he anticipated needing the nest day. Once he got started he lost himself in the task until movement from the adjacent room alerted him to the fact that it was five-thirty in the morning and time to get ready for work.

--

When Don and Megan arrived at the office, he was thrilled to see the large envelope labeled "Photographs – Do Not Bend" on top of his desk.

"DOD was quick," Megan observed in mild surprise.

"Quick would have been yesterday," he grumbled as he carefully opened the envelope and removed the five glossy pictures inside. "I'm going to get set up in the conference room. Bring Colby and David as soon as they get in."

He left her sitting at her desk and flipped on the lights in the darkened room as he entered. Spreading the photos out, he studied them until he had them sitting next to each other in the correct order, revealing an overhead view of the entire eight and a half acres.

"Morning," Colby said as he strolled through the doorway.

"Glad to see you," Don greeted as he gestured at the table in front of him. "See what you think the best approach is going to be."

"No problem."

The senior agent smiled as he watched his coworker pour over the pictures, knowing that his military background always proved invaluable in situations like this.

"The gang's all here," Megan said cheerfully as she led David into the conference room.

"Last one in buys lunch," Colby teased without looking up from his work.

"Then you owe me lunch for the past week," David shot back.

"Anything?" Don asked, knowing his agents needed to feel relaxed but trying to remind them they had to move with a sense of urgency.

"I've got an idea or two," Colby nodded. "I figure Gardenia to stay holed up in the main house right here. The smaller house to the right is probably where his men stay. Down toward the tree line at the back of the house you can see two smaller buildings that are probably for storage."

"To stockpile his weapons and drugs," Don stated.

"That leaves this one building between the house and the front gate," Colby continued. "I would guess it's their garage and probably a lookout station, too."

"Makes sense," David agreed.

"He's pretty clever because he's got the entire perimeter of his property lined with trees, several feet deep by the looks of it. Great to keep prying eyes out and also great for hiding guards with rifles to handle intruders." He leaned back and shook his head. "It's going to be hard, but I think the best plan of attack is to have four men positioned directly behind each of the storage buildings, so once they neutralize anyone there they can flood out and attack from either side. Once that gets underway, Gardenia's men will be focusing back there and I think it will be easier to send more men barreling straight through the front gate to trap them on the property."

"Sounds good," Don nodded in approval.

"Once we clear the garage we can reevaluate the main house," Colby advised the others. "Gardenia will be trapped inside with nothing to lose, so we'll need to be careful we don't set him off. We might be in for a long standoff at that point."

"And we have such a good reputation when it comes to standoffs," Megan groaned.

"Pristine," Colby snorted. "Anyway, I'd still position a couple of men on either side of the area to keep an eye on the action and to offer backup if needed."

Don leaned over the pictures and ran through the plan in his head, making sure he had each and every step clear in his mind. After several minutes of silence he stood up straight and nodded to the others. "I think three cars through the gate, each with three men acting as a team. Two teams clear the garage while the third team heads for the main house if there is a safe opening to do so."

"The idea being if we can get to Gardenia, he'll call off the troops?" David asked.

"That's the idea, yeah." Don looked around at his team, raising an eyebrow in question. "Anyone else have anything to offer?" After they all shook their heads, Don gave them a confident smile. "Then let's nail this SOB."

--

Don impatiently drummed his fingers on the dash of the SUV as he eyed the gate a few feet up the road from him. He was currently sitting in the vehicle with Colby and Megan waiting for word from David and his men that they had secured the storage buildings at the back. At that point, Colby would send the SUV hurtling through the gate with the other two FBI vehicles right on his tail. Those two teams would clear the garage while Don led Colby and Megan toward the main house.

If David ever radioed.

Don glanced at his watch and blew out a deep breath. "Come on," he quietly urged.

"He'll get it done," Colby assured his boss. "Just give him another couple of minutes."

"I know," his boss growled. "I hate waiting though." He checked his earpiece, mike and weapons again for lack of anything better to do. That didn't kill enough time, so he pulled out a piece of gum and added it to the other piece he was already chewing.

"Bravo team is in," David's voice sounded on the radio. "Alpha team is clear to go."

"You heard the man," Don told Colby as he sat up straight and focused on the road ahead. As Colby gunned the engine and sent the vehicle speeding toward the gate, Don called out, "Alpha team is in transit."

"Roger," David radioed back. "Bravo team is holding for your go."

Don watched as the heavy front gate grew closer and closer, finally flying off to the side in three large pieces as the SUV plowed through it. The road before them made two sharp curves before straightening out and heading straight for the large garage. Don readied his assault rifle and glanced over his shoulder to see Megan copying his movements. He gave her a sharp nod and looked back through the windshield.

Colby slowed the vehicle and allowed the other two SUVs to blow past them, each one screeching to a halt on either side of the garage. Don watched as the two teams of three agents climbed out of the trucks, moving quickly to secure the building. They suddenly swung around the building and out of sight and soon the senior agent and his team heard gunshots being exchanged.

"Charlie Team, report," Don ordered.

"We're engaged with a handful of suspects – maybe five," Charlie team's leader told him. "We've got a handle on it. Alpha and Bravo are clear to move in."

"Bravo team," Don radioed to David. "Move in." Looking at his two teammates, he gestured ahead. "Let's get moving."

The senior agent darted out of the truck and to the side of the garage, edging along the wall until he could see the main house. He checked over his shoulder to confirm that Colby and Megan were with him, before turning back and studying the house through his monocle.

"No one's on the door," he told them. "I don't see any shadows in the windows, either."

"Odd if that's where Gardenia really is," Colby remarked.

"Maybe we really did get the drop on him," Don shrugged. "I say it's clear enough to make a run for the house. You?"

Colby shook his head. "Something doesn't feel right."

A loud explosion rang out through the air, shaking the ground the agents stood on. Realizing the sound had come from the back of the property, Don frantically radioed, "Bravo team, report!" The radio remained mute, the only sound in the sir that of the nearby gunfire and of large flames presumably burning in or near the back storage buildings. "David!"

"I'm okay," he finally answered. "One of the buildings exploded. One man's injured, but no fatalities. Looks like we're going to have company soon."

"What?" Don exclaimed. "I thought you cleared the area."

"I see four men coming from the back of the main house," he called back. "We're in a good cover position so we should be able to hold them off."

"Hang on and we'll try to get you help as soon as possible," Don told him. Glancing back at Colby, he said, "I think we have to move now. No telling how many more people they might decide to send David's way."

"Lead on," Colby told him.

Taking a deep breath, Don darted away from the garage and hunkered down behind an old jeep until his two teammates caught up with him. He eyed the distance to the house and decided he could make it in one more run without taking cover. He was turning around to communicate that to Colby and Megan, when a bullet slammed into the jeep right by Megan's head. All three agents pressed themselves lower to the ground as Don peered around the jeep. He saw a gunman leveling his rifle for another shot and motioned for the other two agents to stay down just as another bullet ricocheted off the old vehicle.

Adrenaline pumping, Don assessed his surroundings as quickly as he could. A glance behind him revealed that Bravo team was still engaged in a fierce firefight at the garage. He knew Charlie team was still pinned down in the back and – although he hated to drag anyone else into such an intense situation – he radioed for Delta team to abandon their lookout position on the side of the property and to provide backup for David and his men.

As he finished giving orders, Don looked up and saw the gunman who'd been talking shots at them disappear into the main house. He knew it was risky to still try to take the house, but he also knew that the gunmen might send more people David's way or even out the front door to go after him and his team. Not to mention he really wanted Gardenia.

"I'm going in," he told Colby. "Cover me and join me on my signal."

"Gotcha," Colby nodded as he and Megan readied their weapons.

"Now!" Don bolted from behind the jeep, adrenaline making his strides longer and faster than ever before. He reached the front door in less than five heartbeats, slamming his back into the wall and warily eyeing the opening in case the gunman reappeared. After a few seconds he motioned for Colby to come. As the younger man started to move, a heavy barrage of gunfire rained down on him from an upper story window in the house. Don held his breath as he watched Colby scramble for cover, only remembering to breathe when his radio crackled to life.

"Someone's got us pinned down here."

"I saw," Don replied. "You injured?"

"No, Megan and I are fine."

"Where did the shots come from?"

"Second story window, farthest on the left," Megan told him.

"Okay," Don called back as he debated his current situation. If he moved to rejoin his team, he would undoubtedly be cut down by gunfire. Charlie and Bravo teams were heavily engaged and he'd just sent Delta team to the back of the property so that left him no backup. Colby and Megan were pinned down and possibly sitting ducks if the gunman found a new angle. _No,_ Don told himself. _I won't let anything happen to another one of my agents._ "I'm going to try to get up there and neutralize the gunman. Stay put until you hear my all clear."

"Be careful," Colby radioed back.

"Roger."

Don crouched low and peeked around the doorway, eyes scanning up and down until he was certain the doorway was clear. He took two deep breaths to slow his breathing and regulate his heartbeat, before taking a step into the awaiting gloom of the house.

--

Colston stood in the doorway of Gardenia's second floor office, watching the stairs at the end of the hall. He had two of his men stationed in the far room, laying down gunfire whenever Eppes' team tried to move from their cover. He knew that the agent wouldn't risk losing any more agents, so that meant he should be coming up the stairs any moment. As soon as he saw Eppes, Colston would make a point of darting into the room so the agent would follow. And then…

He glanced at Gardenia who nodded at him from the side of the room, gun in hand.

Colston shook his head and looked back to the end of the hall. If he held his breath, he thought he could just make out the sounds of light footsteps creeping up the stairs. After several heart-pounding minutes, Colston saw the tip of the agent's weapon as he started to crest the stairs. As soon as he glimpsed the agent's face, the criminal darted into the room.

"FBI!" Eppes hollered after him.

Colston didn't answer, merely waiting on the opposite side of the room from his boss, making sure Eppes would be able to see him clearly from the doorway. He was leaving himself open to attack as per Gardenia's orders, but they both knew an agent wouldn't kill a suspect unless he was being fired upon. Colston only hoped Eppes would see him and move in for the arrest, not paying too much attention to the rest of the room.

Soon the Kevlar-clad agent was in the doorway, his gun trained on Colston. "FBI," he repeated. "Throw your weapon down and put your hands behind your head."

Making sure he never looked at his boss, Joseph did as requested and defiantly eyed the agent. "He's gone, you know," he taunted. "My boss is where you'll never get to him."

"We'll see about that," the agent spat back as he cautiously peered around the room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Colston watched as Gardenia ducked and hid behind an armchair in an impossibly small space. Eppes gaze traveled the room, passing right over the chair, before coming back to rest on Joseph. As the agent stepped forward to cuff him, Colston saw Gardenia pop up from behind the chair and fire a single shot from his gun. His face broadened in a smile as Eppes grabbed his throat and fell to the ground, blood quickly pooling on the floor around him.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

_What did I miss?_ Don wondered as he tried to breathe through the white-hot agony in his neck. _One gunman came into the house. I followed him, cleared the room… but I must have missed something._ He wracked his sluggish brain but could not figure out where anyone could have been hiding. It didn't matter though; he'd made a big mistake somewhere along the way. _And now I'm paying for it._

"Revenge," he heard a voice say in the distance as a shadowy figure hovered over him. "So very sweet, wouldn't you say?"

Don wanted to say something back – anything to counter that horrible voice – but his mouth wouldn't work. He could feel the blood as it rushed from his neck, coating his hand and making it slip from the wound. Unless he got help soon, he knew he would bleed to death in the presence of two very evil men. _I don't want to die,_ he thought sadly. _I want to see my family again. I want to start my own family. I don't want to die in some stupid raid, alone and at the mercy of some criminal._

"Ironic," the voice was saying again as the shadow hovered closer. "This is very similar to how your little friend died."

_Gardenia. Hey guys,_ he thought bitterly. _I found him! You can get in here and arrest him any minute now. And while you're at it, how about we call an ambulance too? 'Cause I really don't think I should be feeling this cold._

"Was this how he looked when he died?" the voice laughed. "Because you're making the most interesting face I've ever seen."

Don's anger boiled over the pain in his mind and he tried to reply to the crime boss, disappointed when he couldn't force a sound through his lips.

"Cat got your tongue?" Gardenia asked in amusement.

Deciding it wasn't worth it to waste time and energy on the scum next to him, Don closed his eyes and focused all of his strength on keeping a hand clamped over the wound in his neck. He gritted his teeth and squeezed as tightly as he could, sobbing silently when his blood soaked hand continued to slide from the wound. _I'm really going to die._

The weight of the realization seemed to tighten a vice around his chest, making breathing almost impossible. His struggles for oxygen became so intense that he didn't fully register the sudden cacophony of voice, gunshots and breaking glass around him. He knew there was a new sound – new voices – but all he cared about was getting his lungs to expand just one more time.

Don's hand slipped away from his neck again and he was dismayed to find that it was too heavy for him to move. He was surprised when another hand – he assumed that's what it was – started pressing down on his throat. He thought it must be Gardenia trying to finish him off and tried to muster up whatever strength he had left to fight him.

"Easy, Don." The voice was familiar but he couldn't come up with a name to match it.

"We've got an ambulance on the way." Another voice, this one belonging to a female. _Megan? That would mean the other person was Colby, right? But they were trapped behind that jeep…_

"Hang in there, Don." Definitely Colby.

"Keep breathing, nice and slow."

_I'm trying Megan but it's getting so hard…_

"Are you still with me, Don?" Colby again. "Stay with me. Help is coming."

_I'm going to die like Jackson did._ Don shivered at the thought, instantly feeling warmth envelop his hand and give a reassuring squeeze. _Oh God… Dad and Charlie… I'm so sorry about this. I send you away to keep you safe and now I'm going to die alone._

Knowing he had to let them know he'd been thinking of them, Don parted his lips and tried his best to speak. His mouth opened and shut but he couldn't seem to make any sound.

"Shh," Megan soothed. "Don't talk. Save your strength."

_No,_ Don pleaded silently. _I have to do this; I have to let Dad and Charlie know I was thinking of them. It's the best thing I can leave them with._ Redoubling his efforts, Don tried again. "…lie." It wasn't much, but he knew his team would understand the significance.

"I'll get him and your Dad back as soon as possible, Don. You can tell them how much you missed them when they come to the hospital."

_Megan Reeves – perpetual optimist._ The memory was incredibly comforting and Don found himself relaxing, letting go of the pain…

--

"Beat you again!" Ernesto yelled triumphantly.

"By ten points," Alan pointed out. "How badly did I used to beat you?"

"You can't live in the past," the other man shook his head as he cleared the Scrabble board.

"At least I can still beat Charlie," Alan smiled. "For all of his genius, he can't spell worth a flip."

"Every man has his weakness," Ernesto chuckled. "Another game?"

Glancing at his watch, Alan shrugged. "Might as well. Charlie's going to stay in that garage and work on this case until we hear from Don."

"He's a very determined young man. You should be very proud."

"I am proud of both of them. But this work that Charlie's doing… I mean yes, it could help Don, but I think he focuses on it so he won't have to think about what might be happening to his brother."

"And you, Alan? Is our board game helping to distract you?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I still worry in cases like these, where there's so much of a direct threat to Don."

"_These?_" Ernesto gasped. "There have been other cases like this?"

"A mob case once," Alan informed him. "Turns out it was a distraction from something else, but we wound up having to mobsters visit Charlie's class and an unknown number go through our home. Not to mention they wiped all of Don's bank accounts out."

"My God, Alan. How do you live with that?"

"The best I can, Ernesto. I just trust that Don will keep us safe, no matter what." He sighed and covered his face with his hands. "The flip side of that is that I'm afraid 'no matter what' might be too much for him one day."

Ernesto lightly patted his brother-in-law's hand. "How about a break from the game? You could use some tea, I think."

"That would be great, thank you."

Ernesto left Alan sitting at the table as he entered his kitchen and put some water on to boil. Opening his cabinets, he dug through the various boxes of tea in search of the most soothing kind he had. He found what he was looking for and placed it on the counter, shutting the cabinet as he went to grab two mugs. Before he could do so the phone rang, loud and harsh in the silent kitchen.

"Hello," he answered cautiously, aware that he had two visitors that no one was supposed to know about.

"May I speak to Ernesto Kingston?" a woman asked.

"Speaking."

"This is Special Agent Megan Reeves," the woman informed him. "I work with Don."

"Oh?" he asked casually, knowing that Don had established a code word to let him know if whoever contacted him really worked for the FBI.

"I also know Chuckles the Clown."

_That's the phrase,_ Ernesto thought with a smile. _Poor Charlie was probably at Don's throat when he heard that one._ His sense of amusement quickly faded as it occurred to him that the FBI would only contact him if the danger to Charlie and Alan had passed. _But shouldn't Don be the one calling?_

"Mister Kingston?" Megan asked, her voice filled with concern. "Are you still there?"

"I am, Agent Reeves," he replied. "I was just wondering if everything is okay?"

"I really need to speak to Alan," she told him.

Something in her tone made his heart freeze in his chest. "Alan!" he called urgently.

"What is it?" the other man asked as he raced into the kitchen. His eyes widened as he saw Ernesto holding the phone out to him.

"It's Megan Reeves."

Alan wasted no time in yanking the receiver from his relative's hand. "Megan? What's going on?"

Ernesto watched in horror as Alan collapsed against the kitchen counter.

"Is he…"

_Oh God,_ Kingston thought, _No, not Don…_

"How long ago? Where… where was he… Neck?"

Deciding that standing around and watching his brother-in-law get bad news was intolerable, Ernesto hurried to the garage to get his nephew. He found the young professor seated in front of his laptop, his fingers a fast moving blur over the keys. "Charlie," he called softly.

"Hey, Uncle Ernesto," the young man smiled. "I was just about to take a…" His face paled as he read the expression on his uncle's face. "What… Don? Is it Don?"

"Come with me to the kitchen," the older man said as he grabbed Charlie's arm and dragged him inside the house.

"What is it? Is Don okay? _Tell_ me!"

"I don't know," Ernesto replied. "Your father's on the phone with Agent Reeves."

As they neared the kitchen, Alan came bolting out of the door. "We have to be ready to leave in five minutes," Alan told his son.

"Don?" Charlie asked fearfully. "Is it Don?"

Alan stood next to his son and placed both hands on his shoulders, staring him deeply in the eyes. "Don was shot. He's been taken to the hospital and he's still in the emergency room."

"Shot?" the professor breathed. "No…"

"Yes," Alan nodded sadly. "Megan's got a couple of agents on their way from the local office to pick us up. She's even managed to get us a direct flight to LA on board a government jet so we can be home in just over 6 hours."

"He's going to be okay though, right?" Charlie pleaded.

"They don't know," his father hesitantly replied. Seeing the stricken look on his youngest son's face, Alan hugged him tightly. "But I – _we_ – know, don't we? Don is stronger than some bullet. He's not going to leave us." The professor nodded against his father's shoulder as he embraced him back. Looking over at Ernesto, Alan asked, "Is it okay if we leave our stuff here?"

"Is it…" Ernesto repeated in disbelief. "Of course it is! You need to go be with Don. I'll mail your stuff back to you. Better yet, in a couple of days I may fly it out there myself so I can help you with whatever you might need."

"Thank you," Alan told him gratefully as a car horn sounded from the driveway, signaling that their ride had arrived. "Good bye."

"Bye," Charlie mumbled numbly as he followed his father out of the house.

"Tell Don I expect to see him in a few days!" Ernesto called out to his departing family. As he shut the door and went to gather their belongings, he realized that Charlie had left his laptop in the garage. _I hope that's the only precious thing he's separated from today,_ he thought sadly.

--

"Here."

Megan looked up the sound of Colby's voice just as he was bumping her hand with a Styrofoam cup. "Thanks."

"I don't suppose anyone came out with good news while I was gone?"

"No, not a word." She sipped the steaming liquid, frowning at its bitter taste even as she continued drinking it. _Anything to keep my mind off what's going on behind those emergency room doors._

"How'd Alan and Charlie react?" Colby inquired.

Giving him a scathing look, she shot back, "How do you think they reacted?"

"Sorry," he said contritely. "I guess I… I don't know."

"No," Megan sighed as she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know what you were trying to do." Glancing at her watch, she told him, "They should be here in about four hours. David will be waiting for them at the airport."

"Good. I hope they arrive to good news. But he looked so…" Colby trailed off and began studying the waiting room's lone television.

"There was a lot of blood," she agreed. "Too much, it looked like."

"I can see how Jackson's death was so hard on him," Colby confided. "I was terrified Don was going to die in front of me. To think that he's been through that with someone who _did_ die… No wonder he took it so hard."

"I still can't believe the raid went as badly as it did," Megan growled angrily. "We had a good game plan but it was like Gardenia was expecting us."

"I'm sure he was, otherwise he never would have tried to scare Don off the case. He knew Don was going to catch up to him so he was probably just waiting for us to find him."

"And Gardenia?" she asked nervously as she recalled finding the crime boss leaning over Don's bleeding body while another man looked on. They had identified themselves, Colby firing off a round when Gardenia raised his gun in their direction. He'd been blown backwards through the picture window, plummeting to what they had assumed was his death. She'd immediately cuffed the remaining man while Colby tried to keep Don from bleeding to death. Only after the ambulance had come and they climbed in the SUV to follow had she heard the news… "Did they ever find his body?"

Colby looked her in the eye and slowly shook his head. "No, they didn't."

"You're sure you shot him?" she pressed. "You didn't just graze him?"

"There was a bloodstain forming right over his heart as he crashed through his picture window," Colby promised her. "I'm pretty sure it was fatal, but even if it wasn't, that fall through the window had to be."

"So the dead guy got up and walked off?" Megan snorted.

"He might have been breathing when he hit the ground. Maybe he managed to drag himself off into the woods."

"Our agents searched the woods," she reminded him. "Nothing."

"Well we know some of his men escaped," Colby pointed out. "Maybe they took him with them. But even so, there's no way he survived that gunshot and fall. Not a chance."

"Of course not," Megan agreed as she and Colby tried to convince themselves of that fact.

But Megan knew the truth – that they had both seen stranger things than a man surviving a shot in the chest followed by a two story fall. There was only one thing that would truly put her mind at ease and she suspected Colby was thinking the same thing, too.

They needed to find Gardenia's body.

--

"Dad?"

Alan looked over at his son seated next to him. "What is it, Charlie?" he inquired softly.

"Nothing."

Alan patted his son's hand and gave him what he hoped was a strong smile. "He's going to be okay. He _has_ to be okay." When the professor didn't respond, the older man let his head loll against the headrest as he stared out of the small window. "You'd think a jet would fly faster."

"We're actually flying at 851 kilometers per hour," Charlie informed him. "Only about fifteen kilometers per hour slower than the average Boeing 747."

Alan couldn't help but smile as he listened to Charlie rattle off aircraft specifics. When the professor reached a stopping place, his father nudged his shoulder. "Since when do you know so much about planes?"

"Oh," the younger man thought. "Um, I really can't say."

"For a while then?"

"No, I mean it's classified. I really _can't_ say."

"You and Don and your secrets," Alan sighed as he shook his head. "No wonder what little hair I have left is gray."

Charlie remained silent, so Alan stared back at the window and thought of his oldest son. _Gunshot wound to the neck? If it hit his spine… I don't know how Don would make it through life if he's paralyzed. Of course if it hit a major vein or artery… No, he's fine – just like I told Charlie he would be. I have to stop thinking so negatively._

"Dad?"

"Yes, Charlie?" his father replied without looking away from the window.

"His neck?"

"That's where the bullet hit him, yes."

"So he could be… I mean what if…" The normally confident professor stumbled over his words, unable to voice his fears that his brother's life as an agent might be over. But Alan knew exactly what he was thinking.

"If he is then we'll be there for him, just like we always are." Alan reached over and grabbed his son's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It struck him then that he wanted – needed – to be at Don's side, holding onto him like he was to Charlie. _We're coming, Donny,_ he thought, praying that some psychic miracle would allow his oldest son to hear him. _You just hang on and we'll be there soon._

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

David sat behind the wheel of his SUV, parked next to the government's private air terminal. He glanced at his watch and then toward the main runway, looking for any sign of the Gulfstream jet that Megan had managed to wrangle for the Eppes family's flight. David didn't know how many favors she'd had to call in, but Megan had arranged for a pair of Philadelphia agents to transport the Eppes to the airport, where she'd had the private jet on standby. As far as he was concerned, everyone would be chipping in to treat her to dinner.

A man dressed in a bright yellow vest and carrying a set of wheel blocks appeared from beneath the terminal and suspiciously eyed David. The agent flashed his badge and pointed at the runway until the ground controller smiled and nodded.

_Alan and Charlie are almost here,_ David thought with relief. He'd wanted to call them ten minutes earlier after he'd gotten off the phone with Colby, but the plane had been on its final descent so he'd been unable to communicate with wither the passengers or the pilots.

His heart raced as he saw the Gulfstream appear on the taxiway, turning off into the terminal. The agent could barely force himself to stay in the vehicle as the plane was brought to a stop, secured and the engine switched off. David bolted from the SUV even as the door to the jet was opening and a set of steps were being rolled into place.

"Alan! Charlie!" he called as the two men appeared in the doorway.

"David!" Alan greeted as he rushed his weary frame down the steps, two at a time. Charlie was right on his heels and David had a brief, terrible image of the two Eppes stumbling down the stairs like a pair of dominoes.

"Take it easy!" he told them.

"How is he?" Alan demanded, ignoring the agent's words of caution. "How is Don?"

David allowed a small smile to spread across his face. "He's made it through surgery."

"Thank God," Alan breathed as he embraced the younger man. "And… what's the damage? Is he… I mean, are there any long term effects?"

"His doctor wants to speak to you first," David told him. "But he's giving us the impression that Don will make a full recovery."

"I told you," Alan cried joyfully as he enveloped his youngest son in a bear hug. Pulling away and looking at David, he gestured to the SUV. "Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go see Don."

--

Thirty minutes later Alan was standing in a small, private hospital room, finding it very hard to believe that Don was indeed okay. His oldest son lay flat on his back, a swath of thick, white bandages covering his entire neck and making his pale skin almost translucent in comparison. A frightfully large number of tubes and wires snaked from his body to various pieces of equipment and the fact that so many were necessary scared Alan to no end.

"I know it looks bad," Don's doctor – Harold Earle – remarked. "But I assure you that there is no major damage."

"You said his carotid artery…" Alan trailed off as he looked beseechingly to the physician to repeat his earlier diagnosis.

"It was nicked," Earle said patiently. "The bullet entered the left side of his neck, followed a curved path around his trachea and became lodged between his carotid artery and his jugular vein. We were able to surgically remove the bullet and repair the artery without any complications."

"It didn't go through his trachea?" Charlie asked from behind his father.

"No," the doctor replied. "Bullets sometimes do very weird, unpredictable things when they enter the human body." Seeing that the two men still looked uncertain, he put on his most confident expression before speaking again. "I can promise you both that Don really will make a full recovery, although we will be keeping him here the next couple of days for observation."

"Thank you," Alan said as he seized Earle's hand in fierce handshake. "I can't thank you enough for taking care of my son."

As the doctor left the room, Alan moved to stand by Don's bed and quietly studied his still form. "Oh, Donny," he whispered sadly as he reached out and rested a hand on his ghostly white cheek. He started as his oldest son's eyelids cracked open a slit, revealing unfocused brown orbs. "Donny?"

The agent's mouth twitched in an attempt to speak but no sound escaped his lips. He sleepily forced his eyes further open and weakly smiled at his father.

"It's so good to see you, son," Alan spoke softly, his thumb tenderly stroking the injured man's cheek. "I missed you so much."

"You know, there are better ways to get us to come home," Charlie joked quietly as he slipped his hand into his big brother's. "Remind me to teach you some when you get out of here."

"…bet," Don managed to rasp, wincing at the pain in his parched throat.

His father immediately retrieved the cup of ice by the bed and spooned some into the agent's mouth. "This should help," he told him as Don closed his mouth around the refreshing moisture. A moment later Don began coughing, causing his face to contort in pure agony. "Easy, Donny," Alan soothed as he rubbed his son's shoulder. "Just relax and breathe."

Charlie worriedly watched as his brother slowly calmed under their father's ministrations. "You okay, Don?"

"Be… fine," the injured man murmured.

"Of course you will," Alan smiled. "But I think you need to get some rest first."

"Missed… you," he mumbled in protest.

"We missed you, too," Charlie told him as he intertwined his fingers through Don's.

"Yes, we did," his father agreed. "But we're going to stay right here with you, so close your eyes and get some sleep."

"Promise?" the agent asked as his eyelids grew heavy.

"Wild horses couldn't drag us away," Alan assured him, smiling as Don sighed in contentment before drifting off to sleep.

--

David sat in the hallway outside his boss's room, carefully scanning the length of the corridor. He nodded to the man hovering near the elevators at one end and then to the man leaning against the window at the other end. Leaning back in his chair, David stared at the door in front of him, wondering just how long they could keep this operation a secret from Don and his family. He thought they had a right to know that Gardenia was possibly still out there on the loose, even though he did understand Megan's point that Don didn't need any extra stress so early in his recovery.

David sat up straight as the door to his boss's room opened, revealing a exhausted yet relieved Alan Eppes.

"How's he doing?" David asked.

"Tired," the other man informed him. "But he's finally sleeping now."

"Good," the agent nodded. "He needs it." David motioned to the empty chair beside him and watched as Alan wearily lowered himself into it. "What about you?"

"I'm ecstatic that my son's okay. That's all I care about right now." The older man sighed and looked down to the nurse's station, a frown crossing his features. "Well, I do have one more question."

"What's that?"

"Just what is going on that you need to have agents stationed on the floor?"

David swallowed nervously under Alan's harsh stare, silently apologizing to Megan for what he was about to do. "They're there only as a precaution."

"Precaution? Against what?" His face drained of color and he shook his head. "No. Don't tell me… he got away?"

"No," David stated firmly. "Colby did shoot him in the chest and he crashed through a window and fell two stories."

"But?" Alan prompted.

"We haven't been able to locate his body," David reluctantly admitted. "We're fairly certain that one or two of his men must have carried it away, thinking they could get him help or just to make us think he's still out there."

"Oh God," the older man whispered as he covered his face with his hands. "Donny doesn't know, does he?"

"No. Megan… we _all_ thought it would be better if he didn't have this weighing on his mind while he's trying to get better."

"I agree with you about that. But still… he does have a right to know. And he's sharp enough that once he's past the point of sleeping away most of the day, he's going to start asking questions. You'd be much better off telling him before then."

"I know," David assured him. "Tell you what, you and Charlie stay here tonight so we only have to worry about watching one location. If you need anything from the house, I'll have Colby run by and pick it up. Then tomorrow when Don wakes up, if he seems coherent, we'll talk to him then."

"Sounds like a plan."

--

Charlie couldn't help but laugh at his brother's disgusted expression as he stared at the bowl in front of him. He'd watched earlier as the nurse had dropped off the tray and removed the lid, revealing a bowl of clear broth. Don had immediately insisted that that was _not_ breakfast food, to which she had replied eleven o'clock wasn't breakfast time.

"If it's any consolation," Charlie began once it was just him and Don in the room. "I doubt your breakfast would have looked any better."

"I want real food," Don grumbled. "How am I supposed to get better if they won't let me eat?"

"Don, you've barely been out of surgery for twenty-four hours. You have to work your way up to real food."

"Whatever," he muttered as he lifted the spoon to his lips and took a hesitant sip. As he swallowed he began coughing, dropping the metal utensil to the tray with a loud clatter. Charlie was instantly by his side, easing him forward and rubbing his back.

"Deep breaths, Don," he soothed, frightened by the tears of pain forming in his brother's eyes. "Shh, try to relax."

After a few moments Don patted him on the shoulder and pushed himself back against his pillows. "I'm… okay," he said hoarsely.

"Are you sure?" the professor asked uncertainly. "That was a pretty bad coughing spell."

"…Sure." Don gestured toward the pitcher of water. "Need… drink though."

"Of course."

"Where's Dad?" the agent asked in a stronger voice.

"He went to lunch with David this morning. I think he said David would be coming back with him later to get a statement from you about what happened."

"Right," Don nodded as he accepted the glass his brother handed him. "I need to do that soon." Charlie watched as the injured man sipped the cool water, his stomach churning in fear when Don started coughing again. He grabbed the glass before his brother dropped it and eased him forward again, this time holding him against his chest for support.

"Easy, Don," he whispered in his brother's ear, his voice full of concern. He could only hold on as Don's body continued to be wracked with spasms, helpless to stop the other man's agony. He closed his eyes as he felt his brother's tears of pain soak through the shoulder of his shirt, tightening his grip on the man in his arms. "Come on, bro. Deep breaths. You're scaring me."

The injured man's coughing gradually died down, leaving him to limply lie in Charlie's arms as he struggled to catch his breath. Charlie gently eased him onto the mattress, subtly wiping at the moisture on his brother's cheeks. "Hang on, Don," he soothed as he felt around on the bed for the call button. "I'm going to get you some help."

The agent nodded weakly as his eyes lost their focus on Charlie. He lifted his hand from the bed, desperately grasping at the air around him. It took the professor less than a minute to figure out what Don was looking for and he quickly slipped his hand into his brother's. His spirits lifted at the strength in Don's grip, hoping that meant his brother was still strong enough to fight off whatever this new complication might be.

--

"Charlie?" Alan called in alarm as he saw his son slouched in the chair outside of Don's room.

"Dad," he answered despondently. "Thank God you're here."

"What happened?" his father demanded. "Is he okay?"

"They took him for some tests," Charlie informed the older man as Alan sat in the chair beside him. "He was choking every time he swallowed."

"Who took him?" David asked as he knelt beside the professor.

"A couple of nurses and orderlies," the younger man replied in bewilderment. "Why do you ask?"

David didn't answer his question, instead turning to look toward the end of the hallway where one of his agents should have been. Seeing that he was missing, David flipped open his cell and called him. "Matthews, where are you? You did? Okay, good. I was worried. Yeah, you stay with him and we'll wait here." As he disconnected the call, he nodded to Alan. "He followed them. Don's still undergoing those tests."

"That's what I told you," Charlie said angrily. "You thought I was lying or something?" He cast his father a confused look, frowning at the worry he saw in his face. "What's going on?"

"Charlie," Alan slowly began. "The man who tried to hurt you… the one who did this to your brother…"

"What about him?" the professor demanded.

"They… he…" Alan sighed as he shook his head.

"We think he's dead," David stepped in.

"_Think?_"

"We know he was shot and we have every reason to believe he didn't survive, but… we never found his body."

"You never…" Charlie trailed off as his face drained of color. "He could still be out there?"

"No," David said firmly. "We don't think he's still out there. In fact, we're almost certain he's dead, but we do want to find his body. And until we do, we want to make sure that you and Don are safe."

"Does Don know?"

"We were going to tell him this afternoon, once we were sure he was getting better," the agent told him.

"Only I guess you'll have to wait now," Alan said. "I just hope this isn't some major complication."

"Me too," David agreed.

"Do you have a map of the area where this happened?" the professor inquired hopefully.

"Some satellite photos, yes," the agent responded.

"And you can diagram exactly what happened, when and where?"

"Sure," David nodded, a smile appearing on his face as he realized what Charlie was thinking.

"Give me all of the data," the professor told him. "I'll see what I can do to help." As David made a phone call to have the requested items sent over, Charlie added under his breath, "Maybe it'll keep my mind off what's going on now."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

"Mister Eppes?"

Charlie looked up from the laptop that Amita had dropped off earlier as his father stood up to meet the physician. "How is he?"

"He's going to be fine," the other man assured him.

"Like he was going to be fine last time?" Alan asked angrily.

"I did tell you we were keeping him here for observation," Earle patiently reminded him. "Because sometimes things like this will pop up, despite our best efforts to catch all of the problems during the initial diagnosis."

"What happened?" Charlie queried as he stood by his father's side.

"Don has a very small tear in his esophagus. That's why he would choke when he would consume any liquids – the fluid was leaking into the surrounding tissue."

"But he's going to be okay?" Alan pressed.

"Yes. The tear is small enough that it should heal itself within a few days. To keep it from happening and to keep the tear from becoming infected, we've packed the area with Betadine-soaked gauze. Depending on how resilient your son is, he should be up and out of here by the end of the week."

"Which means he'll be trying to get out of here by tomorrow evening," Alan said in exasperation, although his expression was clearly one of joy. "Can we see him?"

"The orderlies will be bringing him down in the next ten minutes. Why don't you wait in his room?"

Alan and Charlie thanked him and took a seat in the empty room. After a moment of tense silence Charlie spoke. "That's a relief, isn't it?" At his father's scathing look, he gestured to his laptop. "I mean to know it wasn't Gardenia or someone trying to finish him off."

"Oh." His father nodded ruefully. "Yeah… quite a relief." He gestured at the laptop and raised an eyebrow. "You any closer to finding that man's body?"

"No," the professor responded with a frown. "Given the crime scene photos, I think it's highly unlikely he survived. The amount of blood, location of the injury according to Colby and distance of the fall – they all should have been too much for someone to survive."

"And yet no body."

"Right," Charlie agreed. "I think one of his men _did_ carry him off, even if he was dead. It makes sense if you think about it. He might have thought he could save his boss or, if Gardenia was already dead but no one knew about it, he could hide the body and say Gardenia is in hiding and he's acting on his behalf. That'd be a very clever way to take over the operation, don't you think?"

"It would. Hopefully, whoever this man is, he doesn't have anything against Don and he'll leave us alone."

Before Charlie could respond, Don was rolled into the room by two orderlies. This time the professor did notice the agent who casually strolled past the doorway, pausing only briefly to give the professor a confident nod before returning to his station. Charlie smiled at the orderlies as they left and moved to stand next to his brother's bed.

"Donny?" Alan called softly as he brushed his dark hair back from his forehead. The agent's eyes fluttered open and floated aimlessly around the room until they landed on his father's face. He let out a soft exhalation of breath as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "Nice to see you again, son. You really have to stop doing this to us, though."

"Yeah, bro. At this rate you're going to make _my_ hair turn gray."

"Be… tragic," Don whispered softly as his gaze slid to his brother's face. "…funny."

"You just don't want people to think you're older than me," Charlie teased.

"Know… too well."

"I sure do," the professor smiled as he rested a hand on Don's arm. "Just like I know you need to sleep now."

"Sound… Dad," the agent breathed with a small grin. His eyes drifted closed. "Stay."

"We were planning on it," his father promised him as he moved his chair closer to the bed. Alan sat and reached his hands through the bedrails, protectively curling his fingers around Don's wrist. "Sleep now, son. We're not going anywhere."

--

"How are things at the hospital?" Megan asked David as he entered the bullpen.

"The next shift just went on watch," he informed her. "We didn't see anything suspicious while we were there."

"Good. Maybe Gardenia really is out of the picture. How's Don?"

"He's still a little loopy. I was going to tell him about Gardenia today, but then he got whisked off because of that complication. I'd like to let him make it at least twenty-four hours without anything eventful happening before I spring this on him."

"No kidding," she agreed. "He has had it rough the past week. I'm glad Alan and Charlie are back by his side, though. I know that will help him."

"Hey," Colby called as he joined his friends at their desks. "Charlie just called with a possible location for us."

"Really?" David asked with a confused expression. "I just left him and he didn't have anything."

"I know. He said he just figured it out." Colby laid a satellite photo on the desk and pointed to the heavily wooded area behind the storage buildings. "See here, about thirty yards away?" He pointed to a section where a group of trees were missing.

"An opening in the tree line," David observed. "So?"

Colby produced the original satellite photo from before the raid and pointed to the same area. "See? In this one the trees are still there. Something has knocked them down. Something _after _the raid."

"Like an escaping vehicle?" Megan offered hopefully.

"Wait a minute," David said as he shook his head. "Our agents searched the area. Wouldn't they have seen something?"

"No," Colby explained. "There's a very steep drop about twenty yards behind the property. We didn't see any way down there, so we didn't look that far."

"But Gardenia may have had a hidden escape route that we didn't find," Megan stated. "I'll have a search team meet us out there." As she and Colby grabbed their gear, she noticed David was following suit. "You don't have to go. I know you just got off a long shift watching Don and his family."

"Hey, if this is our guy I want to be there when we find him."

"I understand," she smiled. "Let's go."

They arrived at Gardenia's safe house a few hours later, relieved to see that Evidence Recovery and the local police department had already searched the area, and found what they were looking for. The sun had already set, but ERT had set up numerous stands of floodlights to illuminate the burned-out wreckage of an SUV.

Megan tracked down the agent in charge, peered at his name tag and asked, "What have you found so far, Agent Bouyer?"

"The vehicle came down from over there," he replied as he pointed up through the darkened trees. "You can't see it now, but there's an underground tunnel that leads back up to the garage. We backtracked it and found the opening in the garage and – unless you knew it was there – it's invisible to the naked eye."

"His men must have slipped through there while we were trying to stabilize Don," Colby grumbled.

"I heard the shootout was pretty bad," Bouyer told him. "And the entrance was well behind Gardenia's men. With all of the confusion it would have been ridiculously easy to slip into the tunnel with no one to witness it."

"So what happened to the vehicle?" Megan asked. "It looks like it blew up."

"We're still working on that," the technician explained. "Best I can tell, the driver lost control and careened over the edge of the hill by the tunnel exit. The SUV rolled down and hit that boulder it's lying on, which probably ruptured the gas tank. Something sparked and… bye, bye, bad guys."

"How many in the vehicle?" Colby inquired.

"The bodies are pretty badly burned, but my best guess is two. The ME is coming out here first thing tomorrow morning to collect the remains. He can tell you more then."

"Thanks," Megan said as she and her coworkers stood huddled in a group, looking down at the twisted heap of metal in front of them. "So… one of Gardenia's men grabs him, throws him in the truck and starts to make their getaway, but loses control before they can escape. I like that scenario. I like it a lot."

"Me too," David nodded fiercely. "It would be nice to finally put an end to this whole ordeal."

"I don't know about you guys," Megan began. "But I'm not going to sleep until I know this is over." Seeing their heads nod in agreement, she suggested, "How about we go find an all night diner? Then we can show up on the ME's doorstep first thing in the morning and _encourage_ him to put a rush on this job."

"I'm in," Colby told her.

"Me too," David smiled. "If this works out, I think it'll be the best 'Get Well' present we could give Don."

--

Don slowly floated back to awareness, opening his eyes and blinking at the early morning sun that streamed in through the blinds. As he grew accustomed to the bright light he was able to make out his father's form, slouched in the chair by his bed and sound asleep. He slid his gaze to the other side of his bed and – as expected – found Charlie curled up into an impossibly small ball, also fast asleep. He was content to stare back and forth between the two men, relishing the fact that his family was no longer a continent away from him. Something about that thought nagged at him and his groggy mind tried to figure out what it was.

"Good morning."

Don looked over at the sound of his father's voice, wincing as he remembered too late not to strain his neck.

"Careful," Alan soothed as he lightly rubbed his forearm. "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad," Don whispered quietly, not wanting to wake his brother. "Thirsty."

"I think I can help you with that," his father cheerfully replied as he poured a glass of water and stuck a straw into it. "You should be okay with the bandaging, but go slow just in case."

"Okay," Don answered as he let his father slip the straw between his lips. He carefully sipped the cool liquid and held his breath as he swallowed, relief flowing over him when he didn't have a coughing fit. "That's better."

"I'll say. More?"

"No, I'm good." Don watched his father settle back in the chair as he continued to try to think of what he needed to ask. _Something about a continent,_ he thought. _Charlie and Dad were so far away… to visit with Uncle Ernesto? No, that wasn't it. They went there to…_ "Gardenia?" Don suddenly demanded, his heart speeding up. "Did they get him?"

"Calm down, Donny," his father pleaded. "We're here, aren't we?"

"You didn't answer my question," the agent shot back as he struggled to sit up.

"You have to calm down, Don," Alan said in a stern voice.

"Don?" Charlie called sleepily as he roused in the chair. Seeing his father's grim face as he looked at his brother, Charlie felt panic creeping into his heart. "Are you okay?"

"Charlie," the agent called as he painfully turned his head toward the younger man. "Did they get Gardenia?"

The professor looked to his father, taking a moment to piece together what was going on. "Did they… um…"

"They didn't, did they?" Don asked fearfully. His energy reserves depleted, he fell back onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, covering his face with his hands. "Why are you two back if it's not safe?"

"Because you were hurt," Alan said matter-of-factly. "And there was no way I was going to be so far away when you needed me."

"Me neither," Charlie told him. "Besides, your team is almost positive that Gardenia didn't make it."

"What are you talking about?" Don inquired harshly. "He either did or he didn't."

"Well, it's really not that clear cut," the professor stumbled. "I'll be happy to explain, but it's really complex and I know you're tired."

"There are agents in the hallway keeping an eye on all of us," Alan told his son. "Does that make you feel any better?"

"That you're back in LA where he can try to kill you again?" the injured agent snapped. "No, Dad, it really doesn't."

"Don Eppes, you are too important to this family for us to be all the way across the country not knowing if you're going to live or die." The despair in his father's voice stopped Don in mid-argument as he realized what his father was saying. "That's right. All we knew was that you'd been shot in the neck. Do you know how many horror stories I had running through my head? Can you even imagine?"

"I didn't realize…" Don trailed off and had the good sense to look cowed. "That bad, huh?"

"Yes, Donny," Alan replied softly as he sank into his chair. "That bad."

"I'm sorry," the agent sighed as he sank even further into the hospital bed. "I didn't mean to put you through that."

"What?" Alan asked in disbelief. "Son, this isn't your fault. I just wanted you to understand why we came back, even if it wasn't entirely safe." When Don refused to meet his eyes, the older man covered his hand and leaned closer to him. "This isn't your fault. You did what you did because you wanted to protect us. And you know what? Here we are, alive and well." Leaning in even closer to his unresponsive son, Alan asked, "Are you listening to me, Don? Do you hear what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Don finally nodded. "I hear you."

"Good," his father told him as he sagged back in his chair. The three men lapsed into silence as each one tried to ignore the tension that still lingered in the room. The silence was eventually broken by Charlie's cell as it rang loudly in the quiet room.

Giving his brother and father a contrite look, he disappeared into the hallway and answered the phone.

"I swear your brother wouldn't know how to function without his cell and a laptop."

Don laughed at his father's statement, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "I think you're right."

Charlie quickly darted through the doorway, a huge smile on his face. "They got him!"

"Gardenia?" Don asked hopefully.

"Yes! Megan is on her way over with the details, but they found his body."

"Thank God," the agent breathed as he closed his eyes and tried to slow his racing heart. _Now maybe things can get back to normal._ It hit him then that for some people – himself, Jackson and his family, even Charlie with his new scar and terrible memory of the explosion – things would never get back to normal.

_And it's all because of me._

--

"Hey, Don," Megan greeted as she, Colby and David crowded into the small hospital room. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be better once I hear you say it," he answered eagerly.

"We got him," she beamed. "We found a burned-out SUV with two bodies inside. They were too badly burned for visual ID, but one set of skeletal remains was approximately Gardenia's height and there was a bullet in the remains that came from Granger's gun."

"I told you I got him in the chest," Colby added.

"That's good," Don said hesitantly. "But what about something more definite? Fingerprints, DNA, dental records?"

"The body was too badly damaged for fingerprints," she informed him. "We don't have his DNA or any of his relatives' DNA on file, so that's out. We're presently trying to track down any dental records for absolute confirmation, but Don… it _is_ him. You and your family are safe now."

"I know," her boss smiled weakly. "I'm just finding it hard to believe that this whole thing is actually over."

"Well it is," Colby assured him. "So you just rest and get better and leave _all of that paperwork_ to us." He playfully scowled at his boss until Don gave a light shrug.

"I guess I'm busted, huh?"

"Totally," David nodded with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Come on, guys," Megan grinned. "Let's leave the slacker here with his family while the rest of us do all the work."

"Hey, wait," Don said in a serious voice. "I never got a chance to thank you guys for saving my butt. I owe you all a steak dinner when I get out of here."

"Not necessary," David told him.

"But appreciated and accepted," Colby quickly added. At his coworkers' looks, he held ups his hands. "If there's one thing I've learned in life it's to never pass up free food."

"You're impossible, Granger," Megan sighed, grabbing his arm and steering him to the door. "Hurry up and get well soon, Don."

"Yeah," Colby called over her shoulder. "We may not last too long with her in charge!"

"Don't worry, man," David smiled and shook his head as the two disappeared from the room. "I'll make sure they play nice."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

"I should have known you'd be out here," Don chuckled as he entered his brother's garage. "You ever heard of taking it easy?"

"Says the man who is supposed to be on bed rest for two more days," Charlie shot back.

"Yeah, well I may be up but I'm not working. I don't think I can say the same thing about you, though."

"Between finals and this last case and what happened to you, I haven't had much time to put in to my Cognitive Emergence Theory," the younger man advised him as he continued studying his chalkboard.

"Oh yeah," Don smiled as he settled on the old, green sofa. "The 'how do people think' thing."

"_Very_ simply speaking, yes."

"How's that going?"

"I'm making some fascinating discoveries. Nothing profound enough to get me published yet, but it's out there. I just have to find it."

"Well if anyone can, you can, Buddy."

Charlie turned around and studied his brother, finally setting down his chalk and clasping his hands together. "You didn't come out here to talk about my work," he said evenly.

"No, I didn't," Don agreed. "But I was a little stir-crazy and Dad's run to the store. I guess I wanted company."

"Sure," Charlie grinned ear-to-ear, knowing Don rarely just wanted to visit. He moved to the couch and dropped down next to his older brother. "How's the neck feeling?"

"Good as new," Don assured him, rolling his head side to side to prove his point and barely hiding a wince.

"Don't push yourself so hard," Charlie admonished him. "You still have a week of leave from work. Take it easy or you'll hurt yourself again."

"I guess you're right."

"You guess I'm… Did I just hear you correctly?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the agent deadpanned. "You know, Buddy, I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Charlie asked in surprise.

"For getting you involved in this whole Gardenia mess. He only hurt you to get to me."

"I'm fine," the younger man assured him.

Don reached out and lightly ran his fingertips over the scar below his brother's eye. "You call that fine?" he asked quietly.

"I'm alive and kicking, aren't I?" Seeing the look of doubt on Don's face, he covered his brother's hand with his own. "Yes, I call this fine. And I'm fine because you sent Dad and me away while you caught the bad guy. So if anything, I owe _you_ a thank you."

"Sorry, Buddy," the agent said as he slowly shook his head. "We're going to have to disagree on that one."

"You can't help what the bad guys are going to do, you know. You're not psychic and you're not Superman, either. The best you can do is try to stop as many bad people as possible and I think you do a damn fine job of it."

His brother's use of a swear word really hammered home the conviction of his words and Don found himself smiling as he patted Charlie's shoulder. "Not me, Buddy. _We_ do a damn fine job of it."

--

Alan maneuvered his way through the door with two heavy bags of groceries in his hands. _Two sons and neither one is around to help me when I need them,_ he thought with a shake of his head. _Typical._ He kicked the door closed and shuffled into the house, glancing to his right at the sound of the television. Don was sitting in a chair, his head resting against the cushion as a football game played out on the screen before him. Alan tiptoed closer and wasn't surprised to find his oldest son lightly snoring, oblivious to the world around him.

_He's been so tired lately,_ Alan thought sadly. _And so subdued, even for him._ _His injury has healed nicely, though, and he's back to work after next week. I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours, Donny._

Alan softly sighed as he continued on into the kitchen, putting the cold items in the refrigerator before going to track down his other son. He entered the garage and found Charlie scribbling away on one of his numerous chalkboards. "Any new breakthroughs?"

Charlie's writing screeched to a halt and he tapped the chalk against the board as if he could pin down his train of thought before it escaped him. "Not yet," he said as he continued to concentrate on the equations in front of him. Seemingly giving up on whatever line of thought he'd been pursuing, the professor set his chalk down and looked at his father. "Why is everyone suddenly so interested in my work?"

"Come again?" his father asked.

"Don was out here… Never mind." Charlie moved to sit on the couch and looked up at the older man. "Back from the store?" he asked conversationally.

"Yeah," Alan nodded as he wearily lowered himself to sit next to his son. "I bought some of Don's favorites. I figured maybe a good home-cooked meal might cheer him up."

"Maybe," Charlie muttered noncommittally.

Sensing that his youngest son had some insight into Don's mood, Alan leaned forward and asked, point blank, "What do _you_ think is bugging him?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"Because I've come to realize something throughout all my years of parenting."

"Yeah?" the professor inquired when his father fell silent. "What's that?"

"The younger brother always knows more about what's going on in his big brother's life than a parent could ever hope to know."

"Sometimes I'm clueless about him, too."

"I don't doubt that," Alan agreed. "But this time, I think you _do_ know what's going on with him." When the professor remained silent his father shifted closer, placing a hand on his arm. "Talk to me, Charlie. You and I both know Don's hurting, but I can't help unless I know what's going on."

"I tried talking to him about it right before we went to Philadelphia," the younger man confided. "But he shut me out."

"So talk to me about it," his father prodded.

"I don't know much," Charlie replied as he met his father's gaze. "But the agent that was killed in the first raid used to work with Don in Albuquerque. It was his first day on the job out here."

"Oh no."

"Yeah. And after doing some research and talking with Don, I found out that he personally recommended the agent for the LA office."

"So Don thinks he's the reason this agent died?" Alan finished. "That's just… It's ridiculous, is what it is."

"I don't think it's his fault either, but you know how protective Don is. I understand why he feels the way he does, but not how to prove to him that he's wrong."

"You know what, Charlie?" his father asked as he stood up from the couch. "You can leave that last part to me."

--

After supper that night, Don felt restless. He made his way to the backyard and stretched out on the old bench that his father had given his mother when he and Charlie were small. Leaning back, he studied the stars for a while before allowing his eyes to close so he could enjoy the peaceful evening silence.

Silence, however, was not his friend as it allowed too many disturbing thoughts to play in his head. Don quickly opened his eyes and sat up straight, covering his face in his hands and trying to banish the most recent images from his mind. Rustling footsteps across the grass drew his attention back to the house and he saw his father approaching him, his frame backlit by the stoop light.

"Mind some company?" Alan asked quietly, standing in front of Don and offering him a beer as he waited for his permission.

Caught off-guard by the other man's hesitance, Don nodded and accepted the bottle. "Sure, Dad. How can I say no when you bring refreshments?"

Alan joined him on the bench and looked up at the stars, unknowingly copying his son's earlier actions. "Nice clear night."

"Yep." Don twisted the cap off and took a swallow of the cold beverage.

"Not too cool."

"Not at all." Don studied his father's profile, knowing there was a reason for his visit and waiting for him to make his move. Instead, Alan remained quiet to the point where Don grew uncomfortable and felt the need to break the silence. "I think Megan mentioned Larry would be overhead sometime tomorrow evening."

"Oh? I suppose Charlie will stay at CalSci tomorrow so he can use the telescope."

"I know Megan's got one all lined up for her." Don smiled. "She really does miss him."

"Charlie does, too," Alan sighed. "It's been hard on him to be without his best friend."

"I know."

"You know what's helped him a lot, though?" Alan asked as he turned to look at his oldest son.

"What's that?" the agent asked as he took another sip from his bottle.

"You."

Don choked in surprise. "Me?"

"Don't give me that," Alan scolded. "Charlie's looked up to you since they day he first learned to say your name. You were – whether you wanted to be or not – his original best friend. So with Larry gone, it's only natural he look to you for friendship."

"Huh," Don mumbled thoughtfully. "I suppose that's true."

"Only now…"

"What?" Don asked when his father didn't continue.

"Now he's worried about you," the older man confided. "I am too, actually."

"You two worry too much." Don grinned as he gestured to the small piece of gauze covering the wound in his neck. "I'm fine. Back to work in a week. Good as new, okay?"

"Yes, you've healed quite nicely," Alan nodded as he boldly tapped his son's forehead. "But I'm more concerned about what's going on in _here_."

"Nothing new," the agent mumbled. "And nothing worth talking about."

"What if I disagree?" his father asked, staring unblinkingly at his son.

"It's none of your business, really." Don winced as the words came out, sounding harsh even to his ears. _Oh well,_ he thought. _Can't take them back now._

Alan spoke in a low but firm voice as he seized his son's chin. "You, Special Agent Don Eppes, are my son, and therefore my business. Do you understand me?"

"No," Don said, his voice close to breaking. "No, I don't. And I don't know why you and Charlie can't seem to understand _me_. You want me to talk about what's going on in my head but did it ever occur to you that I'm trying to _protect_ both of you from the horrors I see on a daily basis?"

"Like having an agent you were friends with in New Mexico die at the hand of this madman?"

"That's a cheap shot," Don growled in warning.

"No more of a cheap shot than you blaming yourself for what happened to him." Alan held his son's gaze, both men's stares harsh and unyielding.

"I think I've had enough company for tonight," the agent spat as he moved to stand. Much to his shock, his father roughly grabbed his wrist and forced him to remain seated. "Dad? What the hell?"

"I've been watching your mood grow worse and worse these past few months," Alan whispered. "I kept telling myself you were just on a rough case – that things would get better soon. But they haven't. And now _this_ mess is pulling you down even further. I won't let you go, Donny. Not until we talk." He leaned so close to his son's face that Don could make out moisture in his eyes. "I almost lost you to a bullet, son. I'm not willing to lose you to the darkness of your job. Talk to me. _Please._"

Don regarded his father for a moment before sagging against the bench, exhaustion lining his features. "What do you want to know?"

"Why do you think this is your fault?"

"I brought him here," the agent told him. "He died on his first day on the job. How is that _not_ my fault?"

"You recruited him for an opening in your office?"

"Well… no."

"You called him up and bragged about how great LA is?"

"He called me."

"So you kept in touch over the years since you moved out here?"

Don shook his head. "No. When he called it was actually the first time we'd spoken since I left Albuquerque."

"Why did he call you?" Alan inquired.

"He was bored in New Mexico. He and his wife wanted a change of scenery." Don smiled briefly. "She thought LA would be a wonderful place to raise a family."

"It is," his father said with a loving smile. "So… he was asking you to tell him about LA?"

"No. He'd already checked real estate listings, cost of living, school systems… the whole nine yards."

"So what did he want?"

"He wanted…" Don trailed off as his father's interrogation began to wear him down. "He wanted to know if I'd make an official recommendation for him."

"And if you had said no?"

"Why would I-"

Alan cut him off. "Just answer the question."

"I guess he still would have applied," Don said with a shrug. "But I really doubt he would have made it."

"You're certain about that?"

"No, of course not. But…" Don picked at the label on his beer bottle. "I let him go into the field with us that day. I should have said no."

"He'd never been in the field before?" Alan inquired.

"Of course he had. He was a seasoned agent. A good one, too."

"I see. So you ordered him to go into the field with you?"

"Dad," the agent sighed. "I appreciate what you're trying to do-"

"You're the trained investigator, son. Look at the facts and _then_ convince me it's your fault."

Don shook his head as he realized his father had laid out a foolproof argument. "Then why do I _feel_ like it's my fault?"

"Because you are who you are." Alan leaned back against the bench and draped his arm over Don's shoulders. "You're a protector at heart – you said it yourself earlier. You want to protect me, your brother, your team… Heck, you joined the FBI so you could protect as many people as possible."

"And that's a bad thing?" Don asked wearily.

"Of course not," his father said as he squeezed his shoulders. "But you have to walk a very fine line between protecting people and taking responsibility for them."

"I suppose you're right."

"Your father's always right," Alan laughed. "When are you going to realize that?"

"Probably the same day I understand one of Charlie's math theorems," the younger man teased.

"Right," his father groaned as he tousled Don's hair. "Let's go back inside and see if we can't find a game on somewhere."

"Sure," the agent agreed. "I bet you're dying to know how much you owe your bookie."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15 Conclusion

Don nervously shifted his weight as he stood in front of the brightly colored door, waiting for the occupant inside to answer his knock. After a moment the knob began turning and Don slowly expelled the breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding. Once the door had swung open, the agent was standing face to face with someone who was less than pleased to see him.

"Agent Eppes." Cool and even, controlled anger simmering just below the surface.

"Barbara," he nodded. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see-"

"Good guess," she told him as she rested a hand on her hip.

"I just wanted you to know that we got him – the man who killed your husband."

"As far as I can tell that man is standing in front of me." Barbara let out a deep sigh and shook her head as Don remained silent. "Look, maybe I shouldn't have said that, but it's how I feel." As if noticing the bandage on Don's neck for the first time, she pointed. "He do that to you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You're okay, though?"

"I'm going to be fine," he answered, not sure if the news would disappoint her or not.

"That's good," the widow replied. "I still hold you responsible but I'm not some blood thirsty monster." A child's voice called to her from inside the house. "Mommy will be there in a minute, sweetie."

"How are the kids doing?" Don inquired with concern.

"Their uncle came out to help me with them."

"That's good," Don nodded uncomfortably. "This might help, too." He handed her a letter and watched as she read it.

"You got Bobby's death benefits to go through this quickly?" Barbara asked in shock as she scanned the letter.

"I knew you needed it."

"Eases your guilty conscience a bit?" she inquired sarcastically.

"Of course not," he replied as he stepped back and held his hands up in surrender. "Look, I just wanted to give you that and let you know we got the guy – that's it. You never have to see me again."

"That's a good idea," she spoke evenly as she calmly shut the door in his face.

Don shook his head as he followed the walkway back to his SUV. He had known that seeing Bobby's widow again wouldn't be pleasant, but he was pleased that she was no longer overtly hostile. However, the agent had also thought that he would be experiencing wave after wave of guilt after their conversation, but he wasn't. _I wonder why that is?_

_Of course – Dad._ A small smile played over his mouth as he thought back to the talk he'd had with his father the night before. _What do you know – Dad **was** right._ _Hmm… maybe I should see if Charlie's free. Who knows? I might actually understand one of his theorems now._

--

Charlie was in his office working on his Cognitive Emergence Theory when a soft chuckle from the doorway drew his attention. "Don!" he greeted happily. His face bunched in confusion. "What are you laughing at? Do I have chalk on my back or something?" The professor twisted his head as far around as he could, searching the length of his shirt for any telltale dust. This prompted Don to laugh even harder.

"Stop, Charlie!" the agent said through his laughter. "It wasn't that. It's just, well… Let's just say I don't think I'll ever understand your work."

"Okay," Charlie replied as he studied his brother, thinking for all the world he must have gone mad. "So what brings you here?"

"I wanted to visit. Maybe go to lunch?"

"Oops, I already ate earlier," the professor apologized.

"No problem," Don said amiably as he settled into the spare chair in his brother's office. "I had some news I wanted to share, too."

"Oh?" the younger man replied, abandoning his work to give Don his full attention. "Good news?"

"Maybe," Don answered. "Megan did some digging – turns out Gardenia had his own personal dentist, a man named Salazar. She tracked him down and got hold of Gardenia's dental records to identify the remains they found in that burned-out vehicle."

Remembering the two unidentified bodies that had been found, Charlie perked up. "And?"

"Positive ID," Don announced with a triumphant grin. He paused a moment while the information registered. "He's not going to bother you or Dad or me any more."

"That's wonderful!" the professor exclaimed.

"I thought you'd be relieved to know."

"Nowhere near as relieved as you, Don. I know this case has been particularly hard for you."

"No kidding," the agent replied softly. "I think I'm going to be sleeping the sleep of the… really, really tired these next few days before I go back to work."

"At Casa de Eppes, I hope?"

"Nah," Don shook his head. "I've been crashing there too much. Don't want to wear out my welcome."

"Don't be so stubborn," Charlie sighed in exasperation. "You don't have a welcome to wear out because it's your home, too. Besides, Dad and I missed you a lot while we were gone. We want you there."

The older man just smiled in amusement and shook his head. "Alright, Buddy, you convinced me. But I am starting to wonder why I pay rent for my apartment."

"Because you want the one luxury I can never have," the professor informed him.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"A place to go when Dad starts to grate on your nerves." Charlie gave a long suffering sigh and shook his head in frustration. "I love him to death, but sometimes… Sometimes I just want to scream. Especially when he brings that _woman_ home."

"Right," Don nodded in understanding. "Well any time you need to, come on over. I promise you that my apartment will always be a Millie-free zone, just for you."

"I don't think I say this enough, but you're the best big brother a guy could have."

--

Hector Gardenia hurt. The physical pain was horrible, but the emotional pain was excruciating. And he knew who he had to blame for both. Sure, the bullet that had slammed through his chest might not have come from Eppes' gun, but Eppes was the reason the other agents had been there. And Eppes was the reason he'd lost his second in command – both of them – as well as his operation. And Eppes was the reason that he was going to have to relocate, recuperate, and then start all over in another city. But when that day finally arrived – the day when he was leading another powerful organization – he would see to it that he paid a visit to Don Eppes. It might be years, but he was very eager to see if revenge really was a dish best served cold.

"How are you, sir?"

_Oh, the young ones were so annoying with their formalities._

"Not sir," he snapped with as much strength as he could muster.

"Sorry," the young man by his bed apologized. "Won't happen again."

Gardenia nodded weakly. "Have you made our arrangements?"

"Yes. I've booked a private jet for us. We'll be in Miami by tomorrow evening." He hesitated as he studied his boss's complexion. "Are you sure you're ready to travel?"

"I'm ready to put this chapter of my life behind me. For now, at least." Gardenia winced as he shifted in his bed. "You know we have a lot of work ahead of us in Miami, Roberto."

"Yes. My cousin has already started recruiting some men for us. You'll be pleased, I promise."

"I don't doubt it, Roberto," the crime boss smiled. "Now, I must ask – have you taken care of that one last errand I gave you?"

"Delivery went exactly as ordered."

"Excellent," the injured man smiled. "Now let me get some sleep. Wake me tomorrow when the time comes." He watched as Roberto moved to the other bed in the hotel room, not to sleep but to keep watch by the door. _He's definitely a keeper._

Gardenia's thoughts drifted back to their narrow escape. After the second agent arrived on the scene, he'd barely had time to blink before he was falling through his beloved picture window and landing hard on the ground below. The air had been knocked from his lungs and his bleeding chest burned as he tried to catch his breath. Certain that his life was over, he'd been relieved when Roberto had appeared and dragged him off to the getaway SUV. There had been two other men waiting for them inside – a driver and another badly injured man – and the foursome took off through the hidden tunnel Gardenia had had the foresight to build. The incompetent driver had lost control and sent them down the side of the hill, killing himself instantly. Roberto had leaped from the wrecked vehicle and pulled his boss from it to safety before returning to the twisted heap of metal.

"He's been shot, too," Roberto had explained as he gestured to the front passenger seat. "Perhaps the Feds will think you died in this accident." This last was said as the young man doused the SUV with gasoline.

Gardenia tried to gather his scattered thoughts. "Make sure…" he panted. "Make sure it burns… completely." Roberto looked up, puzzled. "No identification," he clarified.

"How are they going to know it's you, then?"

"Salazar," the crime boss replied as he felt his strength evaporate. "Make… the call…"

Gardenia's thoughts returned to the present just as his breathing evened out and sleep began to claim him. His only regret at the moment was that he wouldn't be able to see the look on Eppes' face when he discovered this last… surprise.

--

"You call this stretching your legs?"

Don looked up at the sound of his uncle's laughing voice and sheepishly shrugged. "I needed some air?"

The other man's face immediately creased into a frown. "Don, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Ernesto. Just thinking about all the stuff waiting for me at the office on Monday."

"You don't fool me for a second," his uncle winked. "I know you've been dying to get back to work. Even if I couldn't see it in your eyes, I hear it enough from your father. He considers it a personal victory that he's managed to keep you here for the full duration of your sick leave."

"Early Father's Day gift," Don smiled, although the expression didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right," Ernesto rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to tell him that. Say, you're still nursing that beer? It's got to be warm by now."

"It's fine," the agent assured him.

"Nonsense," his uncle chided. "I'll get you a fresh one. I trust you'll still be stretching your legs here when I get back?"

"Sure," Don nodded with a grin. As he watched his uncle retreat to the house, Don stared back at his mother's flower garden. She's been so proud of it, cultivating it and dedicating so much time to it every year. The couple of years after her death the garden had been allowed to thin out, weeds taking up residence and robbing the flowers of nutrients. Then one day, for no apparent reason, his father had marched outside with a gardening book in one hand and a spade in the other. The next thing Don knew the garden was back up to his mother's standards and his father was the one dedicating so much time to maintaining its beauty.

Don let his eyes drift over the flowers, not seeing the garden but rather the image of a small greeting card with a single white flower pictured on the front. It had been inside a plain white envelope, adorned only with the words 'Agent Eppes', and stuck in the crack of his front door where he was sure to find it. He'd studied the words for a few brief moments as he made his way inside but soon realized the handwriting didn't belong to anyone he was familiar with. With an unconscious shrug, he'd carefully lifted the flap and pulled out the card.

As the flower on the printed on the front became visible, Don's stomach turned and he felt a shiver race down his spine. _He knew this flower._ With lightly trembling fingers, the agent opened the front and saw one simple phrase written on the inside, "To Our Future". He'd dropped the card as if he'd been burned and sank onto his couch.

"Hey, bro."

Charlie's voice cut into the unpleasant memory, jarring Don's thoughts back to the present. He spotted the fresh beer that the younger man was offering to him and gladly accepted it. "Thanks."

"No problem. Uncle Ernesto mentioned you needed a cold one. You know Dad and I didn't even realize that you'd slipped outside."

"Sorry about that," Don mumbled as he popped the top of the new bottle. "I just needed a minute."

"You okay?"

Don smiled at the concern in his brother's voice. "I'm fine, Buddy. Really."

"Okay," Charlie replied doubtfully. "If you say so." He hesitated a moment before reaching out and awkwardly patting the agent on his shoulder. "You're going to be up for eating in a minute, right? Dad's prepared just about all of your favorites. A going back to work feast, I think he called it."

"Only Dad," Don shook his head as he smiled. "But I am starving. When the food's ready, you'd better not be in my way."

"I learned that lesson when we were kids," Charlie teased him. "You want to come in now or do you need another moment out here?"

"Another minute or two."

"With or without company?"

Surprised and touched by his little brother's thoughtfulness, Don patted the hand resting on his shoulder. "Thanks for the offer, but I need to be alone for a minute."

"Sure thing, bro. But you know where to find me." The last was more of a question than a statement. 

"I do, Buddy."

The professor beamed at his brother before returning to the house. Don watched him disappear with a renewed sense of guilt creeping into his mind. He hadn't told them – nor had Megan, true to her word – about the incident in the house. Now Don was left to wonder if the card he'd found outside his apartment would lead to anything else he'd have to keep secret.

_No, he's dead,_ the agent told himself. _Dental records don't lie. But… dentists might. No, Gardenia's dead. The height and weight of the body, the bullet from Granger's gun… he's dead, Eppes. The card is just someone's idea of a sick joke. Maybe a disgruntled former gang member?_

Don had taken the card into work, confiding only in Megan about the new discovery. She'd mentioned it to Merrick who had reminded them both that Gardenia's body had been positively identified and that his gang effectively destroyed – meaning the case was _closed_. Megan had insisted on one last move which involved calling in a favor to one of the crime scene techs. Once they'd heard back from him though – no DNA and no fingerprints – she and Don had had no choice but to stash the card away and assume it was a terrible, cruel joke.

But the lingering doubt still plagued Don, at night when he tried to sleep and during the day when things were too quiet.

"Donny!"

_Not quiet now,_ he thought dryly as his father poked his head through the back door. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Dinner's served! I don't know about you, but the rest of us are starving."

"Coming, Dad."

Don crossed the backyard and climbed up the steps on the back stoop, welcoming his father's quick embrace as he stepped through the door.

"I made all your favorites, you know," Alan told him.

"Charlie mentioned that," Don nodded. "Thanks."

"Anything for you, Donny. I'm just so glad you're better and life is back to normal."

"Yeah," Don said with a confidence he didn't feel. "Normal."

_I certainly hope you're right, Dad._

The End


End file.
